The Girl Next Door
by Kat097
Summary: Modern day fic. He lives in apartment 5a and he's trying to forget. She lives in apartment 5b and she's trying to start a new life. Two people, two stories and one way forward. EC.
1. Prologue

**The Girl Next Door**

"_Have you never looked up to the stars and just wondered?" she said, gazing up at the star-kissed heavens. Erik looked at her._

"_Wondered about what?"_

"_Anything. Everything! A little question that you keep asking and never answering. Big things, like does he love me? Wonder about why bad things happen and how you can feel so happy just because you're with someone who makes you feel special. How that someone can love you even though you're so silly. Does it matter, Erik?" She looked at him, her face an expression of happiness and wonder. Erik smirked._

"_No."_

"_No what?"_

"_I haven't ever looked up to the stars and wondered."_

"_Oh!" She slapped his arm but he caught her hand and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She gazed up at him and he said in a perfectly serious voice,_

"_Perhaps you should be the first one to show me how."_

"_Anything you want, Erik." She smiled. "What would you like to know?"_

"_I'd like to know if… it will rain tomorrow."_

_She looked up, her arms around his neck, and examined the sky._

"_Nope. Bright, beautiful sunshine all day." She said decisively. He considered._

"_I'd like to know if… I should get up early or late tomorrow."_

"_Late. Most definitely late." She said, after a quick glance upwards, a knowing smile playing about her lips._

"_Very well. I'd like to know if… if you'll marry me."_

_She looked at him in amazement. He was watching her with deep, serious eyes. She smiled and tapped her chin, considering the sky above._

"_Well, let's see…" She looked up for a few moments before meeting his gaze. "Yes, Erik. I'll marry you."_

_

* * *

_

"Here's the key. It's all yours, Miss Daae." The landlord said, passing the key to the young woman who was looking around the apartment. She took it and smiled.

"Thanks."

"There are two apartments to each floor, opposite sides so you won't disturb anyone. There's a security office downstairs."

"Thanks." She said again, rather keen for him to go. He nodded and said,

"Well… glad to have you with us."

He let himself out. Christine glanced at the huge pile of boxes and grimaced. She really didn't feel like unpacking them all but if she didn't do it now, it would never get done. Besides, the sooner her things were out, the more it would look like home. She decided to do the necessaries first. Bedding. Bedroom was fairly vital.

She found one of the boxes labelled **bedroom** and ripped off the tape that held the box shut. No, this wasn't bedding. She reached for another box and this time she struck gold. Christine pulled out the sheets and went to the bed. Once it was made with her pale blue sheets, the room looked cosier. Since the other bedroom box was open she started to set everything out.

An hour later the room looked cosy and welcoming. Christine nodded, satisfied. What next? The kitchen came fully supplied with dishwasher, washing machine, oven and all the other basics. She'd need to find her cutlery and plates though.

She spent the whole day unpacking and arranging. By six in the evening the apartment was starting to look like home, even with the discarded boxes and bubble wrap all over the place. Christine collapsed onto the sofa and looked around.

This would do nicely. But now she was starving, having skipped over lunch altogether. The idea of cooking did _not_ appeal. She wanted saturated fat-laden curry, a bottle of wine and a movie to watch, then a nice bath and a good night's sleep before she faced the world.

She decided that the bath was her best option. She didn't want to wander down the street covered in dust and dressed in tatty jeans and a too-big t-shirt. Christine set the hot water running and dribbled a little bubble bath mixture under the stream. Whilst the tub filled, she stripped off her dirty clothes, set a CD playing and stepped into the deliciously warm water.

Christine let out a satisfied sigh as the hot water flooded over her, washing away the grime that coated her skin and hair. A rinse of shampoo and conditioner on her long, curly locks and she soaked until her fingers were wrinkly. Wrapping a towel around her body, she stepped out of the bath, putting her hair into a turban.

She pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt, an old cartoon character grinning cheerfully from it, faded a little from too many turns in the washing machine. Christine pulled on some socks, trainers and tied her hair into a loose ponytail, too lazy to blow-dry it.

Seizing a bag, she stuffed her keys into her pocket, picked up her mobile phone, purse and pulled on a denim jacket before leaving the apartment. She took the elevator to the ground floor and walked along the sunny streets to the Indian restaurant and then on to a supermarket to collect the wine.

When Christine got back to the apartment building the elevator had just opened, a man stepping into it. She started to run.

"Wait!" She cried. He looked up and then pressed the hold button until she had stumbled through. She smiled gratefully.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He said quietly. And Christine blinked in surprise as she was met with a scowling white mask. She looked away quickly, knowing that if she didn't she would start to stare. She shifted the bag holding her dinner, the bottle of wine tucked under her arm.

The man stood tall beside her, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the numbers flicker past, heading higher up the building. Christine glanced at him briefly before chewing the inside of her cheek as she looked at the numbers as well.

They stopped at floor 5 and both stepped out. Christine blinked at him in surprise. This must be the owner of the flat opposite hers. He moved down the corridor without a word and went straight to his door, taking out his key. Christine was fumbling for her key when she heard him talk, in a voice like black velvet.

"You should drink that wine chilled."

"What?" She looked up. He was standing in the doorway and she caught a glimpse of a room decorated in dark red beyond him.

"That particular wine is best served chilled." He said before closing the door. Christine stared at the closed door of apartment 5a before turning to her own door and unlocking it.

Curled up on the sofa, the empty curry plate left on the table with a half filled glass of wine beside it, Christine stretched and looked once more around the apartment.

"My apartment." She said firmly. Because it was _hers_. No one else's. Nobody else would be calling the shots in here.

She pulled on a pair of slippers and looked at the dirty plate. Deciding it could wait until morning, she switched off the lights and crossed to her bedroom. After brushing her teeth and taking her make-up off, she pulled on an old t-shirt that came down to just above her knees and climbed into bed.

Snuggling between the cool sheets of the bed, she looked around once more with a satisfied smile before turning off the lamp.

_Her_ apartment.

* * *

**A/N: OK – I was supposed to be taking a break from writing for a few weeks. But I couldn't. When I'm not writing I just end up fidgeting and wasting my time. So I might as well do something productive! I know this chapter is short, but it is only a prologue. **

**I'm not sure about this story yet, OK? I'm always nervous starting a new story and think everyone will hate it. But here it is and I hope you'll bear with it. I'm hoping to make this a little more grown-up than my previous stories, try to push myself a bit. I don't want to fall into a rut with my writing, you know? So this is all new for me.**

**Lotsa luv 'n' huggles**

**Katie **


	2. An Evening To Remember

**The Girl Next Door**

"How was the move?" Meg asked the next morning, stopping by Christine's desk.

"It was fine. I've still got a few things to unpack and I'll have to do a proper clean but it's starting to feel like home." Christine said, slipping an envelope into her out tray.

"Call if you need any help."

"Shall do." Christine smiled before turning back to her computer screen.

She enjoyed her job. She worked for an advertising agency and was mostly involved with creating mock-up posters and advertisements. An enjoyable, if challenging job. It was a relatively small company, perhaps eighty people altogether, but they were steadily rising. The name of 'Populaire Advertising' was becoming a well-known one.

Christine was currently working on a poster for a new book that was about to be released. There was something not quite right about the position of the text. She tapped her front teeth with a biro, staring hard at the screen. She tried it in a new place, but that made it look worse.

"You OK, Christine?" Sorelli, a co-worker asked, as she passed on her way to the printer.

"What's wrong with this poster?" Christine said, turning the screen. Sorelli looked at it.

"It looks great."

"The main text isn't working." Christine complained, peering at it again. Meg paused as she walked past with a cup of coffee.

"It's too big. It's drawing too much attention anyway from the image." She said, brushing a strand of blonde hair back from her face. Christine looked at the screen and shrank the text. Sorelli and Meg both grinned.

"Much better."

Christine printed the rough copy up to send to her boss and looked at the clock. Five minutes until she could clear off home. She'd just have time to clear everything up and drop the mock-up in to Firmin's office.

She knocked on Firmin's door and he called for her to enter.

"Ah, Christine. What have you got for me?"

"A mock-up of the new Piangi novel."

"Excellent." He eyed the piece. "Leave it there. You can go home and finish unpacking."

"Thanks Mr Firmin. And thanks for helping me find somewhere."

"Oh, it's nothing. André's an old friend and when I told him that my best worker was looking for a place he rose to the occasion." Christine smiled.

"Don't tell Sorelli that, she's still convinced that she's your favourite!"

"Have a good weekend." He said, picking up the telephone as it began to ring shrilly.

* * *

A couple more hours of solid cleaning and her work was done. Feeling like a victorious warrior surveying a battlefield, Christine grinned at her handiwork.

The apartment consisted of five generously sized rooms. A living room, a kitchen-cum-dining area, a bedroom, a bathroom and a room that Christine had turned into an office. The living room, where she stood now, was a rather bland room in beige. A few framed paintings had soon broken up the dullness of the colour. The floor was varnished wood, a couple of rugs added for warmth and she had a suite of two armchairs and a sofa in dark blue. A glass and steel coffee table scattered with coasters and a radio/CD player stood in the centre of the room and in the corner, by the faux fireplace, was a television set. A few framed photographs were set out about the room, adding a touch of homeliness about the room. There was also a large space beside the bay windows that led to a small balcony, where she planned to put her piano, as soon as she could get it here.

Christine threw the last of the newspapers that had provided padding for the more delicate objects into the bin before putting the kettle on for tea. Whilst the water heated, Christine went to put a bag of rubbish down the chute at the end of the hallway. As she passed the door opposite hers, she glanced at it with a flash of curiosity as to its strange inhabitant.

The telephone began to ring as she poured tea.

"Hello?"

"It's Meg."

"Hi Meg." Christine said, pouring milk into her mug. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to do something this weekend."

"Sure. I mean, I've got a couple of things to sort out with the apartment but if you want to go somewhere tomorrow night, that'd be fine."

"Great! We could go to the Club Garnier; we haven't been in a while." Meg said, cheering up at the prospect. Christine smiled.

"That sounds good. I'll meet you at yours at about eight, OK?"

"See you then!"

Christine hung the phone up and sipped at her hot tea, before going into the living room. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the fireplace and considered herself critically. At twenty-four years, she had an air of solemnity about her that she despised. It was as though her past was clinging to her despite her efforts to leave it behind. Still, she thought, she didn't look _bad_. Her hair was thick and curly, a rich dark brown in colour and fell to midway between her shoulders and elbows. Of course, in a time when straight hair was the height of fashion, this didn't help her. Her eyes were dark brown too and set in a pale face. She hated being so pale, she thought that it made her look gaunt and unhealthy, but Meg always said that she had English Rose skin. She wasn't… unattractive, Christine decided. But she was ordinary; you couldn't have parted her from a crowd. She was an ordinary woman with an ordinary job in an ordinary apartment with an ordinary life.

Read – dull.

Christine sighed and sat down, switching the television on. The news was starting and she half-listened as she noted down some ideas for her next work assignment.

"In local news, the police are looking for a man who is suspected of attacking several women. The man, who is described as a white, approximately 5 foot ten and with dark hair and beard, has attempted to rape two women and has robbed a third." The newsreader announced. Christine glanced at the screen, making a note to take her pepper spray out with her.

* * *

Her computer arrived the next morning. The delivery man was extremely rude and moaned about having to take the computer up five floors. Eventually Christine snapped,

"Just go, I'll do it myself!"

He was gone before she had a chance to blink. Christine ground her teeth and looked at the three heavy boxes. One by one she moved them over to the elevator. As she lifted the third, her eye was caught by the intercom system. She searched for apartment 5a. The name of its inhabitant was written next to it.

Mr E. Destler.

"Well, hi there Mr Destler." Christine mumbled, carrying the last box to the elevator doors. She opened it and quickly pulled everything inside.

Getting it all into the apartment was easy enough, although her arms were aching by the time she had finished. She put it together as quickly as she could, checked to make sure it worked and looked at her watch. Damn! Was that really the time? She only had an hour before she had to be at Meg's!

Christine dashed to her bedroom and looked quickly through the wardrobe for something that wasn't wrinkled. A red off the shoulder shirt, great. And dark jeans, that would be fine. A pair of heels, Christine hastily applied some make-up and checked the mirror. Better tie her hair back she didn't have time to do anything with it now.

Well… at least she was presentable. She applied some dark red lipstick, sprayed some scent on, grabbed a bag and jacket and made hastily for the door. Just as she was closing it, the door opposite opened and her masked neighbour appeared, carrying a bag of rubbish, apparently headed for the chute at the end of the hallway. He blinked at her in surprise.

"Hi Mr Destler. Have a nice evening." Christine said brightly, with a charming smile as she dashed to the elevator. He merely nodded, seemingly bemused. As the elevator doors closed, he shook his head.

Odd girl…

* * *

"Hey Christine! Make yourself at home!" Meg said, answering the door, still wrapped in a towel and dripping water over the carpet. Christine stared at her in disbelief.

"I'm so sorry I rushed over her, thinking I'd be late and you'd be waiting." She said, annoyed. Meg grinned.

"Aw, thanks sweetie, but you shouldn't have bothered. You know what I'm like!"

She disappeared and Christine collapsed onto the sofa. Tiggsy, Meg's tabby cat, wandered in. Christine rubbed her fingers together and the cat leapt onto her lap. Christine stroked her soft, stripy fur and sighed heavily. Twenty minutes later Meg appeared, looking gorgeous in a short black skirt and pink top.

"How do I look?"

"Stunning, as always. Can we skip the ego-feed and go?"

"But my ego will deflate and I can't have that! We need some serious gorgeousness tonight to get the guys running for us." Meg winked. Christine rolled her eyes.

"Meg, I am seriously not looking for guys."

"In which case, can I have yours?"

Christine couldn't help laughing as they went to the door.

* * *

Club Garnier was a single floor, divided into three rooms. One was the dance room, with loud music and a busy bar. The second room was a bar, usually with live entertainment and the third room was more like a lounge than anything else, quiet music playing and comfy chairs all around.

Christine and Meg paid to get in and went to the bar room.

"What do you want? I'll get the first round." Christine asked.

"Oh, get me a G and T, would you? I'll grab us some chairs." Meg said. Christine went to the bar, waiting behind a couple of men who were taking their time. Eventually she reached the bar and said,

"A gin and tonic and a Baileys on ice, please." Whilst the bartender fetched her drinks, Christine leant on the bar, looking around. There were two guys sat at the end of the bar, watching her. She caught the eye of one and then turned away as her drinks arrived.

"I saw that, Christine Daae!" Meg hissed in her ear. Christine jumped what felt like half a mile into the air and glared at her, picking up the drinks.

"Saw _what_?"

"You looking at those guys!"

"Dear god, did I just look at someone? In a crowded bar? I actually _looked_ at another human being?" Christine gasped sarcastically. Meg snatched her drink.

"You should have smiled or something!"

"Meg, I already told you. I am _not_ planning to meet someone. I've had enough guy problems to last me for years."

Meg rolled her eyes.

"Come on. I've got us some good seats." These good seats turned out to be opposite the men's toilets, where they could see every man who went in and out. Christine had to admit, it was funny to give marks out of ten.

"Oh, fly's undone. One point."

"That guy was in there for fifteen minutes, what the hell was he doing? Three points max."

"Can we sit here?" They looked up and saw the two men who had been watching them at the bar. Meg smiled saucily.

"Help yourselves." They sat down around the little round table. One guy, with dark blonde hair that was spiked up and brown eyes, smiled.

"Hi. I'm Stuart and this is Matt." Matt had brown hair and blue eyes and was looking at Meg, with a little smile which she returned. Christine felt distinctly uncomfortable and sipped at her Baileys. Within a few minutes the other three were laughing and joking. Christine listened in amusement and Stuart looked at her.

"What do you do, Christine?"

"I'm in advertising. Populaire Advertising." Christine said. Meg cut in.

"Christine is on the team that's advertising the new Piangi novel!"

"You are? No way, I love his books!" Stuart said excitedly. "Have you ever met him?"

Christine smiled.

"A couple of times. I had to check that he liked the work. He's nice, a little weird, but he was very polite."

"Oh my god, I love this song!" Meg said as a new song began.

"Want to dance?" Matt asked eagerly.

"Sure! Christine, watch my stuff?" She was gone before Christine had a chance to reply. Christine rolled her eyes.

"Attention span of a dead cat, that one."

"So… tell me about yourself." Stuart said, shifting to sit next to her. "What do you like to do?"

"Well… I like music. I play the piano." Christine said. "And I sing a little."

"Ever played gigs?"

"Oh, god no. I don't like to play in front of people." Christine laughed.

They chatted for over an hour before Stuart worked up the nerve to ask her,

"Christine… would you like to go out sometime? To dinner or something?"

Hello awkwardness. Christine bit her lip and looked down at her drink before meeting his eyes.

"Stuart… I… I just got out of a long relationship and I've just moved house and I'm just trying to get my life back together. I don't think that it would be a good idea for me to see someone right now."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, sure." Stuart said, looking rather awkward. He paused, looked at her and then said, "But I'm going to give you my number. Just in case you change your mind. I'm very persistent that way."

Christine smiled and took the piece of card, on which he had scrawled his number, slipping it into her purse. She checked her watch and winced.

"Urgh, I'd better go. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow, ready for Monday."

"Are you OK by yourself?" Stuart asked. Christine smiled and nodded.

"It's a fifteen minute walk along brightly lit streets with plenty of people. I'll be fine. It was nice to meet you."

* * *

Christine wrapped her coat tightly around her. It was chilly and she tugged her bag closer to her. She turned down a side street that led to the apartment block, walking swiftly. Her breath came out in white puffs of air and a cold, white moon shone down at her. She was half-regretting Stuart's offer of company.

A footstep sounded behind her and Christine glanced over her shoulder to see a figure, clad in a thick coat, his head bowed against the cold air. She carried on her way, half-forgetting about him. Until something dug into her back. She froze.

"Hand over the bag." A rasping male voice commanded. Christine couldn't move and he prodded her harder with what she presumed was a knife or a gun. She quickly slipped the bag from her shoulder and he snatched it. Christine let out a whimper without meaning to and he quickly pushed her against the wall, her cheek grazing the bricks. He held her there and she felt a hand going through her pockets.

The pepper spray! It was in the pocket of her jeans. Her hands were squashed against her front and she slid one down. He didn't notice, he was so busy rifling through her things. She pulled out the little tube and flipped the lid. And then she elbowed him quickly in the gut. He grunted and she spun around, aiming the spray at his face. The substance hit him full in the face and he howled in agony. Christine grabbed her bag from his hand and cried out as his flailing hand caught her face, the knife still clutched in it. Blood dripped down but she didn't even notice as she began to run down the road.

She heard thudding footsteps coming after her and looked back to see the man stumbling after her. She cried out. She was only a few houses form the apartment block, she could still make it! Christine stumbled to the door and tapped in the code. Her attacker, so disorientated and pained by the pepper spray fell after her but she slammed the door shut, the mechanical lock preventing him from chasing her.

He noticed the CCTV cameras surrounding the door, swore and ran off. Christine went numbly to the elevator and pressed the fifth button. She was trembling so hard that her teeth were chattering. The doors opened and she went into the corridor. She pulled out her keys and tried to put one into the lock but she was shaking so much that the key slipped from her fingers. Christine dropped to her knees and tried to grasp the key but finally noticed the river of blood soaking into her shirt and trickling down her arm.

She let out a sob as what had just happened hit her in its entirety. She had almost been _robbed_. She was injured. What if he was the same man who had raped those other women? What if he had tried to rape her? What if she hadn't had the pepper spray with her? A thousand different possibilities crossed her mind and a loud wail escaped her lips as the wall within her broke and her fear flooded her.

She buried her face in her hands, like a little child. She didn't know what to _do_. The door opposite her opened and she looked up in terror. But it was not the man who had attacked her. It was the masked man, what was his name? Destler. Yes, that was it.

She must look a sight, she thought. Blood smeared all over the place, her hair in complete disarray and crying like a baby. A look of distinct confusion and horror crossed his face for a moment. He knelt before her and she shuffled back without meaning to, pressing against the wall.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said in that gorgeously deep voice. Christine swallowed hard, tears blurring her vision.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"…C-Christine." She stammered.

"My name is Erik Destler. I'm going to help you."

And he lifted her as easily as if she were a rag doll and carried her into his apartment, ignoring the blood that was staining his clean shirt.


	3. See Me Here

**The Girl Next Door**

Erik considered the trembling girl sat on his sofa with a bloody towel pressed against her face. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been leaving her apartment looking rather incredible. Now she was shaking and although the tears had stopped, she was still gasping a little.

"Where you attacked?" He asked. She nodded.

"A… a man. He tried to take my bag. I… I had pepper spray and I… he chased me and… he had a knife…" She mumbled, unable to finish.

"I'm going to call the police and an ambulance. I think you may need stitches." He said, reaching for the telephone.

Christine sniffed hard and winced as another stab of pain went through her cheek. Erik dialled the triple nine emergency number and waited.

"I need the police and an ambulance to 142 Gaston place, apartment 5a. My neighbour has been attacked on her way home." He said calmly. "Yes. My name is Erik Destler. Thank you."

He put the phone down.

"They'll be a few minutes." He said and knelt, moving the towel away from the gash on her right cheek. There was a scrape on her left, where she had been pushed against the wall. Not that Erik knew that. Unless she got stitches very soon, it was likely that she would have heavy scarring, he knew.

"Would you like some water?" He asked. Christine shook her head. She felt ill. "Have you been drinking tonight?"

"I had two drinks." She whispered. Erik fetched a damp cloth from the kitchen and wiped away a little of the blood that was drying on her face. Her eyes were now red from crying.

The intercom buzzed and he answered it.

"Yes?"

"This is the police and medical assistance that was requested by an Erik Destler."

"Come right up." Erik said and held the door button down so they could get in. Less than two minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Two policemen and two ambulance people stood outside. Erik stood back to let them in and one of the medics crossed to Christine.

"What happened?" A policeman asked, taking out a notepad.

"I found her on the floor in the corridor. I think she may have fallen." Erik said. "She's not particularly coherent. But she told me that someone attempted to rob her. She used pepper spray on her attacker and ran home but he followed her. There are CCTV cameras downstairs, they may help."

"What's her name?"

"Christine Daae." Erik replied.

"We've got a laceration on the right cheek and a scrape on the left, but no other physical injuries." One of the medics said. "We'd better take you to hospital; you're going to need stitches on that. Have you got any family we can contact?"

"No… I don't have any." Christine mumbled.

"I'll come with her." Erik said.

* * *

He hated hospitals. He always had. The sterile stench, the cold blankness and neutrality of it and the simple fact that people were dying within these walls. He glared as a nurse walked past, looking through a file and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair.

Why the hell was he here anyway? It's not like he even knew the woman. Stupid conscience. But he couldn't have left her there.

He couldn't have.

"Mr Destler?" He looked up and saw Christine standing nearby. Her clothes were still blood-soaked but her face was now clean, with a neat row of stitches along the cut, which was about six centimetres long, slashing down towards the corner of her mouth. He stood.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired. In pain. But I've got some painkillers to take once I get home." She said quietly.

"I'll call a taxi." Erik said.

* * *

They stood in the corridor of floor 5 and Christine took out her keys.

"Thanks again, Mr Destler."

"You're welcome." He nodded. "If you need anything…"

She smiled and closed the door. Erik let himself into his own apartment and looked around. There was blood on the floor and on the sofa. He went to fetch cleaning products before looking at the clock. It was nearly four in the morning.

It could wait, he decided, pulling off his bloodstained shirt and tossing it into the laundry basket and heading for bed.

Christine, in the mean time, was already in bed, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. They were taking their time. Her mind replayed the entire incident. It was a little fuzzy now and she could only really remember clearly what had happened once she'd been found by Erik Destler.

That sure wasn't how she had planned on properly introducing herself to her new neighbour. It was strange, she hadn't once thought about him since he'd found her. But now her mind was filled with curious thoughts about him.

She tried to draw up a picture of him in her mind. Dark hair, quite long but smoothed down. He was pale, paler even than herself and his eyes had been… what colour? She couldn't recall and made a point to check next time she saw him. He'd been really tall, well over six feet and pretty thin. But not the unhealthy kind of thin. When he'd picked her up, he'd done it easily, so she guessed he was well muscled beneath the shirt. Age? In his thirties, she guessed. He had to be older than her twenty-four years; he had a more worldly look about him. And he wore a white mask on the right side of his face. It had been beautifully made, perhaps custom made.

Christine brushed her stitched cheek with fingertips and winced. She'd have to buy him something to say thank you. Perhaps a bottle of wine.

And she'd be sure to chill it first.

* * *

Christine was late to work on Monday morning and groaned when she realised that the meeting had already started. She threw her coat and bag into her cubicle and dashed to the boardroom, flicking through her file as she opened the door.

"I'm sorry I'm late." She said, as everyone turned to her. Jaws dropped as she took her seat and Firmin gaped in horror.

"Christine, what happened?"

"I was attacked on Saturday night." Christine mumbled. Fantastic, just what she needed to talk about. Meg looked horrified.

"What? When? Oh God, I _knew_ I should have gone with you!"

"Look, its fine. I've been to the police and it's all been sorted out. What's going on in the advertising world?" Christine said firmly, putting an end to the discussion.

At the coffee break, Meg and Sorelli caught up with Christine in the kitchen as she made coffee.

"What happened?" Meg said, looking upset. "Christine, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. I was just walking home and this guy attacked me. I got him with pepper spray but he had a knife and he caught me with it as I ran off." Christine said, pouring three cups of coffee for them all. Sorelli whistled.

"Ouch. And you got yourself to the hospital?"

"Not exactly. I got up to my floor and then started blubbering like a baby. Luckily my neighbour found me and he mopped me up a bit and called the police and an ambulance." Christine replied.

Meg and Sorelli exchanged a glance and Christine smiled at them both.

"I'm _fine_. I was a bit shaken up, but the police spoke to me yesterday and they've got a good chance of catching the guy since he chased me home and got caught on CCTV."

"You're so brave, Christine, I would have been terrified."

"Are you kidding? I was almost wetting myself." Christine joked. Meg smiled weakly and Christine decided it was time to change the subject.

"So, what happened with you and Matt on Saturday night?"

"Oh, wasn't he gorgeous? He's taking me out tomorrow night. Oh, and I would slap you for leaving Stuart all by himself if you weren't already so sorry looking." Meg scolded her.

Christine rolled her eyes.

"Well, thanks for the sympathy, Meg. And I told you that I wasn't looking to meet anyone."

"But he was so sweet!"

"Then you go out with him!"

"I can't, I've got Matt. Anyway, he said he gave you his number. So the balls in your court."

"I don't pay you to gossip, ladies. Let's get back to work." Firmin said as he passed. They all jumped, hurrying back to their desks.

* * *

Christine loaded up a basket of food at the supermarket, trying to pack as much as she could. It was easier to get everything done for the next few days. She paused at the wine section and picked out a bottle for Mr Destler.

She drove home quickly and took everything upstairs, putting the frozen food into the freezer before going to the mirror to look at the cut. She sighed. There'd be a scar there. Hopefully it would fade and she wouldn't have to get all self-conscious about it.

Christine slipped the wine bottle into a bag and crossed the hallway to apartment 5a. She knocked and after a few moments the door opened. Erik Destler appeared, dressed very smartly in black trousers, a dark red shirt and a black waistcoat.

"Miss Daae."

"Hi." She smiled a little nervously. "I, er… here." She thrust the bottle at him. "To say thank you. For helping me."

He blinked in surprise and she flushed.

"Well… thanks." She said, before hurrying back to her apartment. He stared at the closed door and then examined the wine bottle. A very, _very_ tiny smile crossed his lips before he turned back into his apartment.

* * *

"_Isn't it odd how things turn out?" She said idly, watching him. Erik looked across at her._

"_Would you care to elaborate?"_

"_Well… look at us. I would never have imagined that I would end up being engaged to you when I met you."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because you're a very odd man, Erik." She teased. Erik lifted an eyebrow and she laughed. "Well, you are!"_

"_I don't know what you're talking about." He said haughtily._

_She crossed to him and sat down in his lap._

"_That's because you're unbelievable stubborn."_

"_You're talking nonsense." _

"_You'd better shut me up then."_

"_I intend to." He growled, lifting her up. She laughed delightedly and buried her face in his thick, dark hair._

_

* * *

_

Erik woke up with a start and closed his eyes as he remembered the dream. Not again… he should have gotten over those dreams by now. But no. He was still having them. He could not, no matter how hard he tried, forget about her.

She haunted him.

Erik rose from his bed and went into the living room. The moonlight was falling in from the window. His eyes fell upon the bottle of wine that he had been given earlier. It was extremely tempting to pour himself a glass, but he refrained. Drinking in this state of mind would do him no good when he had work in the morning.

He drained a glass of water instead before returning to bed.

* * *

Christine was determined not to be late on Tuesday. A wonderfully hot shower woke her up and she washed her hair, rinsing the soap from the thick, dark curls and choosing an outfit for the day. The company wasn't extremely formal but they insisted on smartness. Christine picked out a black skirt, coming to a few inches above her knees and a plain white blouse. You couldn't go wrong with black and white.

She pinned her hair up into a bun with a few loose curls falling down so it wouldn't look too severe. A pair of black shoes, a quick application of eyeliner and mascara and a smear of lip-gloss, she was soon ready to go. She would pick up some breakfast on the way to work; she hated cooking in the morning. She eyed the cut again. It was still horribly red and noticeable, but there was nothing to be done about that.

She picked up her bag and coat and went downstairs. She wondered vaguely what it was that Erik Destler did for a living but the thought was driven from her mind by the more important idea of a cappuccino.

"A cappuccino and a chocolate croissant to go, please." Christine said at the café around the corner from the office. Whilst her order was being fetched, Christine searched through her purse for the right change.

"Christine?"

She looked up and saw Stuart staring at her from a nearby table. She smiled nervously.

"Hi Stuart."

"What happened?" he said, looking at her injury. Her coffee arrived and she handed over the money before carrying her things to his table.

"I got attacked on Saturday night."

"What happened to the well-lit streets?" Stuart asked cynically. Christine laughed hesitantly.

"Yeah, well… taxi next time."

"Damn, it looks painful." He winced, looking at it.

"It's not a bundle of laughs." She admitted. Stuart smiled.

"Have you got time to chat?" He asked. Christine looked at the clock and smiled.

"Sure."

Stuart, she discovered, worked in the accountancy offices three streets away from her own workplace.

"It's as dull as hell, but it's a living." He said dryly. "Hopefully I'll find something that'll actually interest me one of these days."

"Hey, numbers are fun." Christine teased. "All that adding and subtracting."

"And sometimes we get to multiply, if we've been really good. It's a thrill alright." He said in mock-solemnity. She smiled and finished her drink.

"I'd better go. I was late yesterday morning and I can't do it two days in a row."

"Yeah, I'd better be going too." Stuart said.

They walked along the first street together and then Stuart paused, looking down at her.

"Christine, I know you said you're not really looking for anything but… can we at least be friends?"

"Of course. That's a given." She told him.

"Great. Then I'll meet you for breakfast tomorrow morning as well?" he grinned an adorably cheeky smile. Christine smiled too.

"Sure. Same time tomorrow."

"Great!" He said enthusiastically before moving off down the street. Christine watched him go before continuing to her own workplace.

* * *

She had a good day at work. Piangi, she discovered, liked the design, Firmin was delighted that their client was pleased, Meg was seeing Matt that night and was in high spirits and Christine received a phone call that her piano would be delivered that night.

She rushed home to make sure that the space was properly cleared for the instrument. It arrived at 6:30 and after some extremely awkward manoeuvring in the elevator, she and three delivery men managed to shift it into the spot by the window. Christine signed for its delivery and thanked the men just as Erik walked down the corridor. He glanced curiously at her, red-faced and panting from the effort of moving the heavy piano. She smiled at him.

"Good afternoon Mr Destler."

"Good afternoon, Miss Daae."

"Anything else you need, Miss?" The delivery man said. Christine looked around.

"No, that's everything. Thanks again."

He left and Christine smiled at Erik again. He noticed the piano and lifted an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware that you played." He commented.

"Only for pleasure. It's a hobby more than anything else." She said. "I love music though."

_Something we have in common,_ Erik thought. Christine jumped as the phone started to ring from inside her apartment. She said goodbye and hurried inside to answer it.

"Hello?" She said, flicking the kettle on.

"Christine, its Stuart." She nearly dropped the phone in surprise.

"Stuart! Hi! …wait, how did you get my number?"

"I asked Meg. Only she was out with Matt. So I, er… went to the restaurant where they're having dinner. And got the number from her."

She could almost _hear_ him blushing. Christine smiled.

"That's sweet. And a little stalker-ish."

"No, no stalking. Just plenty of enthusiasm. Anyway, I just wanted to call and say… well, not much. I really don't know why I called." He laughed nervously and Christine grinned.

"OK, well since we're already talking we could just forget the whole stalking thing and just talk like normal people."

"Not stalking!" He insisted and Christine laughed.

**A/N: Aw, thank you all for the lovely reviews. Glad to know I'm still loved! However I'm going to have to work extra hard to make Stuart as un-Max as possible. I'm a little disappointed people think that they're so similar. I hate reusing original characters and completely forgot that I'd used the name Stuart before! So, Stuart and max are not the same. I hope. I'm working on it!**

**Lotsa luv**

**Katie **


	4. The New Girl

**The Girl Next Door**

A week had passed before Erik saw his neighbour again. He was just coming home from work when he saw her at the door of the building, tapping in the security code. She looked back and smiled, holding the door open for him.

"Hi." She said as they walked to the elevator. "How are you?"

"Well enough." He looked at her face. "The stitches?"

"Took them out yesterday. Hurt like hell." She smiled. "But at least they're gone. Still a bit of a scar, but that's OK. At least I'll look interesting!"

He smiled slightly, pressing the button for the fifth floor. Christine looked at him curiously.

"May I ask, what is it exactly that you do?"

"I'm a composer and director at the Hawthorn Theatre." Erik replied. Christine looked surprised.

"Really? That's amazing!"

"It passes the time." He said modestly. In truth he was damn good at his job, but he had never been one to show off. Christine looked suitably impressed without hammering the fact home.

"Are you working on _Il Muto_?" She asked. He was surprised that she kept up with the shows. Somehow she didn't seem the sort of woman who would find the opera interesting,

"I've heard of it." He said. No need to mention that he had, in fact, written the show.

She laughed.

"My company is doing the advertising for _Il Muto_. I'm on the production team." The lift stopped at their floor and they moved down the corridor together.

"Thank you for the wine." He said as they reached their respective doors.

"Oh, you're welcome. Thank _you_ for helping me." Christine said. Erik just nodded but before anything further could be said the lift opened again and a man came out, carrying a huge bouquet of gorgeous flowers. He paused at the sight of them.

"Christine Daae?"

"That's me." Christine said. He passed the flowers to her and smiled before leaving. Christine flushed and looked at the card.

**_Christine,_**

**_I saw these and thought of you. _**

**_Stuart_**

She laughed quietly and Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"Nice flowers."

"From a friend." She said.

"Very… friendly." He commented, eyeing the large bouquet. Christine sighed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so."

For some reason she didn't seem particularly enthused about the fact. She smiled at him and then went into her apartment. How strange. Apparently sending flowers and being pleasant was _not_ the way to a woman's heart.

"And to think I've been doing it wrong all these years." Erik muttered wryly.

* * *

"First meeting on the _Il Muto_ project. You scared?" Meg smiled as they went to the boardroom. Christine laughed.

"Nope. Couldn't be readier."

"You seem very certain of yourself."

"This is just what I need right now. A big project to keep myself busy." Christine said. "I haven't worked on anything this big since… well, in ages."

"Just don't get too bogged under, Christine." Meg warned. "I know what you're like."

Christine didn't reply. She just pushed open the door to the boardroom. There were five other people in there. One was Firmin, one was Sorelli, another man from the company and the other two were clearly from the Hawthorn Theatre. One of them was Erik Destler.

"This is Christine Daae and Meg Giry; they're on the team as well. Ladies, this is Mr Erik Destler, the writer and director of _Il Muto_ and Mr Nadir Khan, the manager of the Hawthorn Theatre." Firmin said jovially.

Handshakes were exchanged and they all sat down. Mr Khan, a foreign man with dark eyes and skin, handed out slim folders.

"This contains all information on the show that you will need. A plot summary, photographs of the cast and crew, etc. We need a programme, posters, leaflets, the whole deal."

"Christine, you can take over with graphics and images for posters and leaflets. Sorelli and Meg, I want you to work together on the programme. Thomas, I want you on newspaper advertisements and publications." Firmin said. "Oh, and we've got a new person joining next week. Christine, I'd like it if she could follow you around until she's learnt the ropes."

"That's fine, Mr Firmin."

"Excellent." He beamed

"When will we be able to see some mock-ups?" Erik asked.

"Within a fortnight, I should think. We'll have them sent straight along to you at the theatre." Firmin assured him.

Mr Khan nodded solemnly. He was a serious looking man, Christine noted. For the next thirty minutes they sat discussing the opera and the various themes in it. Christine wrote everything down, already imagining the pictures in her mind, mentally adding to them with every passing comment. By the end of the meeting she was bursting with ideas and desperate to get to her computer and start creating. They all stood up to shake hands again. When Christine reached Erik she smirked.

"We're going to be having words, Mr Destler."

"And why might that be?" He enquired politely.

"You seem to be an intelligent man. I'm sure you can work it out." She said sweetly.

Meg and Sorelli caught up with her as they went back to their cubicles.

"What was that about? Getting all flirty with the masked guy!" Sorelli giggled. Christine scowled.

"I was _not_ flirting. Mr Destler lives in the apartment next to mine. I asked him about _Il Muto_ and he said that he'd _heard_ of it. I can't believe he didn't tell me that he wrote it."

"Oh, so that's the guy who got you to the hospital?"

"Hmm. Excuse me, I want to get these ideas down before I forget." Christine said, clearing the screensaver from her computer.

* * *

Christine spent the rest of the evening busily sketching out ideas for the posters. Eventually she came up with one that she was particularly pleased with. She set it aside, making plans to scan it into her computer and begin finishing it.

She looked at the clock and sighed. Seven thirty, she really should eat something. Too often she found herself skipping meals and was getting rather too thin. She went to the kitchen and looked unenthusiastically through the freezer before going to the cupboard. A jar of sauce and a pan of pasta would suffice, she decided. She put the pasta on the cooker and poured herself a drink, groaning as the telephone rang.

"Yes?"

"Hey Christine. Everything alright?"

"Oh, hi Stuart. Yes, everything's fine. Just making dinner." Christine said, smiling. She and Stuart had been meeting for breakfast every morning and she was warming to him. Perhaps a little too much, she thought reservedly.

"Good. Just calling to make sure you got the flowers, I forgot to ask at breakfast and you didn't mention them." He sounded nervous. Christine smiled.

"Yes, I got them. Thank you, they're beautiful."

She fingered a velvety petal of one of the flowers as she spoke.

"Good. I mean… I'm glad you like them." Stuart said happily. Christine bit her lip and then said,

"Stuart?"

"Yeah?"

"…I've got to go, the waters boiling over."

"OK, no problem. See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

She hung up and sighed heavily. Why was she doing this? Hadn't she learnt her lesson? Well, apparently not because she was still prepared to get screwed over by the first guy who looked her way. Christine scowled and turned off the pasta. If she hadn't been hungry before, she definitely wasn't now.

* * *

_Her raven hair spilled delightfully over the purity of the white pillow. Erik sighed and stroked a single, silken lock as she slept. He was lingering in that place between consciousness and sleep. It was a beautiful place to be. He could have lain forever, just holding her to him, breathing in that sweet scent of her skin._

_She was a precious creature indeed. Seemingly so fragile but her soul was stronger than any he had ever known. He thanked God for being able to have her so close. For God had given one of his dearest angels to a man fit only for the deepest bowels of hell._

"_Erik?" She mumbled, stirring from her slumber. _

"_I'm here."_

"_You should sleep." She said, rubbing her head against his shoulder. _

"_I know. I just like to watch you sleep." Erik murmured, pulling her tighter to him. She smiled sleepily._

"_Weird. Go to sleep. I won't be going anywhere."_

_

* * *

_

Christine woke up, gasping and sobbing. Fresh tears were on her face, strands of hair sticking to her sweating forehead. She breathed deep and let out another shuddering sob as the nightmare came back to her.

She climbed out of bed and went to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. She sipped it and found that her hands were shaking. She closed her eyes and then quickly opened them again as the face of her unknown attacker lunged out of the darkness once more. The glass clunked heavily against the metal basin as she put it down.

Christine sobbed again and sank down onto her knees by the sink, letting the tears flow. After a few minutes she pulled herself up again and splashed cold water to her face. But she knew that she would not sleep now.

She wandered slowly around the apartment, sniffing and shivering in the cold air. Had the heating turned off? Christine thought about going to check but she was still shaking and sitting down seemed like the easiest option. She sat at the piano, stroking the smooth keys. She pressed one and the sweet clearness of the note echoed around the room. She pressed another, and another, until she was playing without even realising it.

She didn't know what song it was, some piece she had learned years ago. She didn't care, she almost couldn't hear the music, so lost in it was she. It surrounded her but she barely knew of it.

The music was rich and powerful, beautifully bittersweet. And it hurt more than anything she could have experienced.

Christine stopped playing and looked down at the instrument before lowering the lid over the keys. She got to her feet and caught sight of herself in the mirror. God, she was a mess. The livid pink scar stood out horribly against her pale skin. Christine turned away, heading back to bed.

* * *

Erik lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He had heard music playing… he was _sure_ that he had. But he had been half-asleep so he couldn't have been sure.

He couldn't have imagined that music. It had been too powerful, to passionate, not dissimilar to the sound of an animal crying out in pain. He knew that feeling all to well. He often used music in the same way, loathing himself for it afterwards. Music was to be treasured, not treated in such a coarse manner.

Nevertheless, he wondered what could have caused someone to start playing the piano at three AM.

* * *

"Urgh…" was all Christine could say as she crawled out of bed the next morning. She felt like… well, like something particularly unpleasant. But she couldn't skip work today. That new girl was joining today and Christine had already agreed to show her the ropes.

A shower, clean clothes and a hell of a lot of concealer on those bags under her eyes and Christine looked and felt ninety per cent better. She grabbed her bag, folder and jacket and closed the door, meeting Erik as he carried his rubbish to the chute.

"Morning Mr Destler." She said. He nodded to her and she went to the elevator, yawning.

Stuart was already sat in the café. He blinked as she sat down with a double cappuccino.

"Going for the heavy stuff today?"

"I didn't sleep well and I've got the new girl to look after today. So _not_ what I need right now." Christine replied, chewing on a croissant. Stuart stuck his lower lip out.

"Aw, poor Christine."

"Thank you for your sympathy. And yes, I'm well aware that it was sarcastic." Christine said, sipping at the hot coffee. "Do you ever get that feeling when you just know that it's going to be the day from hell?"

"In which case, I'm going to give you a light at the end of the tunnel. I'll pick you up after work and take you somewhere to eat." Stuart promised. Christine smiled.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around?"

"You mean apart from my dazzling personality?" Stuart said as they left the café.

"You might want to polish the personality thing." Christine suggested. "But I'll take you up on the dinner."

* * *

Carlotta Guidacelli was twenty-four, tall, thin, blonde and gorgeous. Christine already felt a little put out, especially as she was feeling less than fabulous. Clad in designer jeans on what had to be cellulite-free legs, Carlotta eyed her.

"You are Christine Daae?"

"That's right." Christine said, offering her hand. Carlotta shook it. "It's nice to meet you, Carlotta. You're interested in advertising?"

"I guess." She said, shrugging indifferently. "So, what is it that you do?"

"I'm working on the _Il Muto_ project. I handle the graphics and mock-ups of posters, mostly." Christine said, putting her bag in her desk drawer.

She pulled out the file containing her sketches and spread them on the desk.

"I'm going to be showing these to Mr Firmin today before I finish them up and send them to the Hawthorn." Christine said, looking over them, rather pleased with herself. They had turned out very well. Carlotta seemed remarkably unimpressed and uninterested.

"Morning Christine!" Meg said brightly, passing the desk. She paused. "You're new?"

"Carlotta Guidacelli." Carlotta said. Meg smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Carlotta. Chris, Firmin is looking for you."

"Thanks Meg. We'd better go see him now."

She led Carlotta to Firmin's office. He called them in.

"Ah, you're here. Christine, have you got those sketches?"

"Here." He eyed them.

"Good work. I prefer this one but we'd better let the producers decide. Carlotta, lovely to see you again." He said warmly. She smiled.

"And you, Richard. My father sends his regards."

"He is in good form?"

"He was last week, when I saw him." Carlotta replied. Firmin beamed and said,

"Well, Christine's one of the best in the company, you can learn a lot from her."

"I'm sure I will."

Firmin nodded and the phone began to ring. Christine signalled for Carlotta to follow her.

"I'm not entirely sure what you to do. I'm going to be finishing these up for the rest of the day and it'll be really dull for you to just sit and watch." She thought for a moment. "I think Meg and Sorelli are going to be thinking about programme ideas today. You'd probably have something more interesting to do with them."

"Sure." Carlotta said, shrugging and looking around the office. Christine felt a rush of irritation but suppressed it.

"Good. I'll go and see what they're up to then." She said calmly.

* * *

The end of the day could not have come soon enough. Christine spilt coffee over her keyboard midmorning, soaking one of her designs which she then had to redo. She managed to get one almost finished but Firmin called her away to demand why she wasn't looking after Carlotta.

"Mr Firmin, I've just been sat at the computer all day; she would have been bored out of her mind! At least with Sorelli and Meg she can help with the input and achieve something!"

"I asked you to look after her, Christine. Do you know who her father is?"

"I have no idea." Christine said tiredly.

"He is the owner of Guidacelli Tech! They provide most of our equipment and give us generous discounts! They might even give us their next advertising campaign, but that's not likely if you shunt the owner's daughter off to one side!"

Christine ground her teeth.

"Fine. I'll keep her around tomorrow."

"Good! Now get that second design finished!" Firmin snapped, turning back to his computer screen. Christine held her breath until she had left the office, because she was afraid that if she didn't she might just snap.

What she saw when she came out of the office did nothing to improve her mood. Stuart had turned up a few minutes early and was currently chatting away to Carlotta, who had a very seductive look on her face. Christine clenched her fists and marched over.

"Hi Stuart."

"Christine! Ready for the dinner I promised you?" He smiled. Christine smiled back, feeling better already. The look of disgust on Carlotta's face helped.

"Never been readier. I'll see you tomorrow, Carlotta." She smiled sweetly and picked up her things.

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. I have literally just had the week from hell and it probably shows. I am NOT happy with this chapter, but there you go. Basically, I've had to go and fight with my bank because they keep charging my money for no apparent reason, school is dragging me down, I've got a horrible cold and I'm starting a new job tomorrow.**

**And, just to put the icing on the cake… those who have read 'From Heaven's Mind' may remember that during the summer, I lost my aunt to cancer. Last night a close friend of mine also died of cancer. I just can't fucking believe it, if you'll excuse the language. Two loved ones in less than three months. Someone tell me that that is fair, because I sure as hell can't see how it is.**

**I'm begging you. Please, PLEASE donate money to cancer charities and put an end to this disease before we have to lose more people.**

**Katie**


	5. Hold Me Now

**The Girl Next Door**

"I was most impressed with the poster you sent through." Erik commented. It was several days later and he and Christine were chatting in the hall after work, something that had become a bit of a regular occurrence. Christine smiled, pleased at his approval.

"I'm glad you think so. I want to do your work justice. Otherwise you could make life extremely unpleasant for me, being only next door."

"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing." Erik said calmly.

"Glad to hear it." She said.

They said goodbye and went to their separate apartments. Christine tossed her keys onto the coffee table and glanced at the clock. Friday had finally arrived and Christine was hoping for a relaxing weekend. She turned the television on and flicked through the channels before settling on a rerun of _Friends_. With a mug of hot chocolate, she changed into an old pair of jeans, a tatty t-shirt and fluffy socks before settling on the sofa to watch the sitcom.

She awoke over an hour later to the ringing of the telephone. Christine hadn't even realised that she was asleep. She picked up the shrieking receiver.

"Yeah?" She said, a little groggy.

"You OK? You sound kinda out of it." Meg's concerned voice said. Christine rubbed her eyes.

"I'm fine. I just dozed off for a bit. What's up?"

"Well, Matt and I were going to get a drink later on and were wondering if you and Stuart wanted to come."

"Why would I know if Stuart wanted to go?"

"Oh, _please_. Who are you trying to kid? I've seen him meeting you everyday after work this week!"

Christine couldn't exactly deny it. Ever since their dinner, Stuart had taken it upon himself to meet her. She sighed.

"It doesn't mean anything, Meg."

"Sure. Anyway, we're meeting at the Trenton Arms at eight. See you there, maybe." Meg hung up. Christine stared at the phone and then put it heavily back on the cradle.

_Call him_, said that irritating little voice in the back of her skull. Christine chewed her lip. Oh, this was ridiculous! They were friends, weren't they? But… why did it feel like it was becoming more than that? It was obvious that Stuart wanted more from it than friendship. And he was the sort of person who wouldn't push. In fact, he seemed more than happy to wait for her. How many guys were willing to do that? She knew for a fact that there were a lot who didn't.

But Stuart was a nice guy. Really nice. She knew that he was, so why was she hesitating? Just because _he_ had hurt her, didn't mean that every other man was going to. Time to… move on.

She got up and glared at herself in the mirror.

"You are going to stop being so childish. You are going to call him and invite him out for drinks. Because you are an adult and it is perfectly normal." She paused. "And the fact that you happen to find him rather… attractive has absolutely nothing to do with it."

With a deep breath, she picked up the phone, reaching for the piece of paper with his number on it. The phone rang a couple of times before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Uh… Hi, it's Christine." She said nervously.

"Christine!" He sounded positively overjoyed. "What can I do for you?"

"Well… Meg and Matt are going out for drinks later and Meg wanted to know if I wanted to go. And… and I wanted to know if… if _you_ want to go."

Damn it, why did she sound like a nervous teenager? She bit the inside of her cheek as Stuart replied.

"That sounds great! Give me a time and place and I'll be there."

"The Trenton Arms, eight o' clock." Christine said, a weight instantly lifting from her chest at his agreement.

"Brilliant." He said warmly. "I'll see you then. Can't wait."

"Great. Bye."

She put down the phone, feeling remarkably proud of herself. Which, she knew, was perfectly ridiculous. It wasn't as if she'd done anything particularly brave. She'd just asked a friend out for a drink.

Big deal.

* * *

Erik was just returning home from an emergency at the theatre as Christine was leaving. She smiled at him as she closed her door.

"Have a nice evening, Mr Destler."

"I have no doubt that _you_ will." He commented, looking her up and down. She'd changed from her comfort clothing into a stylish skirt, a pink top and tied her hair into a ponytail. She smiled at his comment, pulling a heavy coat on. The weather had become less than hospitable lately.

"Well… I hope so. See you later."

Erik watched as the elevator doors closed and scratched his forehead. How releasing it must be to simply go in and out as one pleased, without a care in the world. He envied that woman and her freedom. She was not confined to a place through an accident of birth. She could come and go whilst he lingered in this hallway, like a ghost.

* * *

Meg and Matt were already sat at a table when Christine arrived. She collected a drink and went to join them.

"God, you actually decided to be sociable? Should we be expecting four horsemen to ride past at any moment?" Meg teased. Christine eyed her and sipped at her drink.

"Just because you're more preoccupied with your social life than with your work…"

"I just balance it all out well." Meg said calmly. "So, will Stuart be joining us?"

"He said he might show up." Christine said carelessly. She didn't want to seem as though she were too interested. She didn't' want to give Meg more ammo than was totally necessary.

Sure enough, Stuart arrived five minutes later, his handsome face pink-cheeked at the cold weather. He shook himself, removing his scarf.

"God, it's freezing outside." He commented, sitting down and rubbing his hands together. "Time to go winter-clothes shopping, I think."

"Did you crawl through a hedge to get here?" Christine asked, plucking a leaf out of his blonde hair. He laughed.

"No, but the gale force winds may have ripped up a garden as I passed by."

"What do you want to drink? I'm going up anyway." Matt said. Meg stood too.

"I need to visit the ladies. Back in a moment."

They disappeared and Stuart smiled at Christine.

"I've got to admit, I was a little surprised that you rang me."

"Oh?" Christine said, concentrating on her drink.

"Hmm. Not that I'm complaining. I guess stalking pays off." He teased. She scowled.

"You know that I didn't mean that!"

"No, but I'm not about to let it go. Do you know how much emotional blackmail that's worth?"

By the time Meg and Matt returned, they were arguing amiably about _exactly_ how much emotional blackmail it WAS worth.

* * *

Despite Christine's feeble protests, Stuart insisted on walking her home.

"We don't want a second attack." He said firmly. They said goodbye to Matt and Meg and set off towards Gaston Place. The winds were still hard and fast and the air was chilled. Christine watched her breath coming out in puffs as they walked in silence.

At the door to the apartment building, she paused and looked up at him. He was watching her, his brown eyes thoughtful and dark. Christine hesitated for a split second before standing on tiptoe and kissing him swiftly on the lips. She sank back down onto her feet, staring at his chest so as to avoid eye contact. After a moment he said in a confused voice,

"What… was _that_?"

"It's… moving on. I'm moving on. And you're where I've moved to." Christine said, trying to convince herself. Stuart lifted her face so he could look at her. He examined her face for a few moments before saying,

"I don't know what you're moving on from. I'm guessing whoever he was, he hurt you. I won't do that, Christine."

"…I know." She said in little more than a whisper.

This time he kissed her. And now it wasn't like an awkward teenager, as her kiss had been. It was even romantic, in a sort of windswept, bundled-in-coats-and-gloves sort of way. Stuart put his arms around her, as he had been longing to do for some time now, although it was difficult as both were wearing thick coats against the weather. But he didn't _care_… because she had kissed him. She had said that she wanted him too.

After a few minutes they pulled apart and Stuart grinned at the sight of Christine's flushed face, her lips swollen and her cheeks pink with cold and pleasure. She smiled shyly.

"…I should…" She gestured at the door. Stuart nodded.

"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow?" She nodded and tapped in the door code. With a final smile and wave, Stuart trudged off into the darkness, a hapless grin plastered over his face.

* * *

Christine examined her computer screen, frowning thoughtfully as she touched up the poster that Mr Khan and Mr Destler had selected. Firmin had left a message on her answer phone, telling her which one to work on and she had been at it since for nearly three hours now.

She selected a section of the poster and made it a couple of shades later before saving it and examining it with a critical eye. The intercom buzzed and she went to answer it, her mind still on her work.

"Yes?"

"Only me." Stuart said. Christine smiled and pressed the door release.

"Come on up."

She put the kettle on in anticipation and sat back down at the computer. Less than three minutes later there was a knock at the door.

"It's open!" She called, still concentrating on the poster. Stuart entered and made his way to the study. Christine glanced at him with a quick smile.

"Just give me a minute."

"I'll give you two."

"Big spender." She chuckled, tapping away at her keyboard. One minute and thirty-seven seconds later, she closed the computer down and swivelled on her chair to greet him properly. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." He smiled, pulling her to her feet. After a _very_ friendly kiss, Christine said,

"Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please."

He followed her to the kitchen, looking around.

"This is a really nice apartment."

"My boss fixed it up for me. He knows the landlord." Christine said, heaping coffee granules into two cups. "I only moved in a few weeks ago."

"You've done it up really nicely. Very homey looking." Stuart complimented. Christine smiled.

"Well, let me give you the tour."

She guided him around the apartment. He had already seen the office, living room and kitchen so there actually wasn't that much to show him. He stopped at the piano. looked at her expectantly. "What?"

"You have to play!"

"Oh, no. I don't play in front of _people_. Besides, coffee is nearly is ready." Christine said, changing to subject. "Milk and sugar?"

"No milk, one sugar."

They sat together on the sofa with coffee and suddenly found themselves with nothing to say. After a moment of silence, Stuart gestured at a picture.

"Your parents?"

"Hmm. On holiday. France, I think." Christine said, examining the picture.

"How old were you?"

"God… about seventeen? Yes, I must have been." She counted in her head. "Yes, seventeen, about to turn eighteen. That was our last family holiday."

"How come?"

"Mum and Dad died." Christine said simply. "Mum was in a car crash and Dad committed suicide."

She said it so simply, you'd have thought she was merely commenting on the weather. Stuart stared at her.

"Christine…"

"It was a long time ago, Stuart." She said quietly, tapping a nail gently against the edge of her ceramic mug. "It hurt for a while but I don't need to hide from it anymore." She looked at the picture of her smiling parents, thinking about them.

"He just… couldn't live without her." She said quietly. "He just loved her so much that life wasn't worth living without her."

"He had you." Stuart insisted angrily. "Didn't that mean anything?"

"I don't hate him for what he did, if that's what you're implying." Christine said firmly. "I know why he did what he did. I wasn't happy about it, but… I don't know. It's hard to explain." She finished weakly. They sat in uncomfortable silence. Christine drank some coffee and then smiled at him.

"Tell me about your parents."

"Extremely average. They live on the other side of town, Dad's a security officer and Mum dabbles in gardening."

"Brothers or sisters?"

"A little sister, Kerry. She's nineteen, at university in London." Stuart grinned. "She's a bit of a brat, but I couldn't do without her."

They kept to safe subjects after that. Favourite films, debating silly things, teasing each other childishly. It was sweet and simple, so deliciously uncomplicated that Christine barely recognised it for what it was – happiness. Not completely happiness, you couldn't expect that after their short time together. But it was enjoyment of another persons company and an amiability that Christine had not had in a long time. They spent the whole day talking and getting to know each other until it neared six in the evening when Stuart suggested they go and get something to eat.

They emerged from the apartment, still talking cheerfully when the opposite door opened. Erik stopped short at the sight of them. Christine smiled.

"Hi Mr Destler."

"Miss Daae." He inclined his head slightly before looking over at Stuart.

"This is Stuart Wilkins." Christine explained. "Stuart, this is Erik Destler."

"Nice to meet you."

"And you. Excuse me." He disappeared down the corridor towards the chute.

"What do you fancy? Chinese?" Stuart asked.

"There's an Italian down the road, it's supposed to be really good." Christine suggested. Stuart nodded.

"OK then. Italian it is."

* * *

"So?"

"So what?" Christine said, scanning the paperwork that had been left on her desk. Meg leant over the edge of the cubicle.

"So what happened with Stuart?"

"Not much. Have you seen this?" Christine thrust the paper at her. "Have you seen Carlotta this morning?"

"She's with Firmin." Meg said, passing the paper back. "Yeah, Firmin already told me about that."

Christine switched her computer on, slipping a disc into it.

"As long as I don't have to baby-sit, that'll suit me. I finished up the poster, by the way."

"When?"

"On Saturday, before Stuart came over."

"He went to your apartment?" Meg said excitedly. Christine scowled.

"Yes. We had coffee, talked for a while and then went out for dinner. And yes, we've decided to see each other. So you can stop with your matchmaking plans and start trying to set Sorelli up with someone."

"Keep me out of this!" Sorelli snapped.

Meg pouted and Christine opened the poster.

"What do you think?"

"I think if you carry on like this, the rest of us are going to be made redundant." Meg said. "That is really good, Chris."

"It had better be. I poured my metaphorical sweat and blood into that thing." Christine said, reaching for the telephone as it began to ring. "Hello?"

Her face went serious and a little colour drained from her cheeks.

"Speaking. Yes, I… OK. Yes, of course I will. I'll… thank you. Goodbye." She placed the telephone down carefully, looking at it with a frown. Sorelli and Meg exchanged a glance.

"Christine? What's wrong?" Sorelli asked.

"…They've caught him." Christine whispered, touching her scarred cheek. "They arrested him this morning, they want me to go and confirm that it's him."

She stood up and moved swiftly to Firmin's office, knocking and entering before he had a chance to reply. He and Carlotta were sat at the desk, leaning over a portfolio. Carlotta sneered at her but Christine had no time for her attitude.

"Yes Christine?"

"I've just had a call from the police. They've caught the man who attacked me and they want me to go now and identify him." Christine said. Firmin nodded.

"Of course, take the rest of the day."

"The poster is up on my computer, I'll get Meg to give it to you."

"Let me know how it happens. Do you want someone to go with you?"

"No, I'll be fine." Christine said, leaving the office.

* * *

"Joseph Buqet, forty-eight." The police officer said to Christine. "The DNA matches but we want a witness. You're the most recent victim of the four. The two rape victims don't want to see him at all and the robbed woman is out of town so you're our only witness."

Well, that didn't at all pile on any pressure, Christine thought vaguely as she followed him to a room. It was just like being on television, looking through the one-way glass at the man sat in the room. He was largely built, with dark hair and a scrubby beard on a red, pock-marked face, dark eyes sunken in. Christine shuddered and nodded.

"Yes… that's him."

"You're positive?"

"Definitely." She whispered. How could she forget the face that had been haunting her dreams? The police officer nodded.

"Good. We've read over your statement and now that you've identified him there shouldn't be any trouble getting him convicted. We might need you to testify and we'll contact you if that's the case."

Christine cast a final look at the glaring figure at the table and nodded.

"OK."

**A/N: Thank you to everyone for the kind words and reviews that you left. It is appalling how many of you have lost people to cancer as well. It's nice to know that I'm not alone in this. Tomorrow night I'm going to give blood and I encourage the rest of you to as well. It's not a lot but it could make a hell of a difference to someone. **

**Thank you for the lovely reviews. I can't believe over a hundred reviews for _four_ chapters! That's just ridiculous! …don't stop though. I know, still no Erik/Christine. The way I've planned this story out, it's going to be a while before we get any action in that department. I always feel that I get them together too soon and I'm going to amend that. Seriously, in 'Cold, Cold Heart' they were together by chapter 9 out of 45. A little quick? Methinks so. But think how ultimately satisfying it will be when they DO get together!**

**Lotsa luv**

**Katie**


	6. Heart Of The Family

**The Girl Next Door**

It had been a stunning instrument at once time. Now the wood was faded and Christine highly doubted that it was in tune. But, somehow, she knew that she could fix it. A coat of varnish, some new strings, a proper bow and that violin would play beautifully.

If only she could remember how to play. She had learned a little bit as a child, but gazing at that instrument she longed to play again.

She pushed open the shop door and approached the counter. A wizened but cheerful looking man smiled up at her.

"How may I help you?"

"The violin in the window, how much is it?"

"That old thing? £25. It's a bit past it, love, wouldn't you prefer a new one?"

"May I see it?" She interrupted. He scuttled off to fetch it, laying it on the counter. Christine picked it up and ran her fingers over the tarnished wood. It was rough, but not a complete loss.

"Is there a box and case?" She asked.

"Of course." He eyed her doubtfully. "It's very old; you probably won't get much use out of it."

It was a strange world where a shopkeeper tried to prevent you from buying something, Christine thought vaguely. She picked up the violin, remembering how her father had held his. She held it in both hands, examining every inch of it.

"I'll take it." She said decisively.

* * *

Sat at the kitchen counter, Christine smoothed the wood and lay it down on a sheet of newspaper to let the varnish dry before applying a second coat. It had been two weeks since she had testified against Buqet, who had been sentenced to eight years in prison.

The phone rang but Christine didn't answer, letting the machine pick it up as she washed her hands from the sticky varnish.

"_Hey Christine, its Stuart. If you're not busy tonight, you want to meet up? Call me back. Love you._"

She smiles at his voice. Stuart was… well, adorable really. He had been so sweet and loving over the past month, since they had become a couple. He was just such a perfect gentleman. They were happy.

She waited for a half hour before applying the second coat. Once this was dry, she rang Stuart back, saying that she _did_ want to meet up with him and they decided to meet at the pub at seven thirty. In the mean time, Christine set about preparing the bow. She supposed she should take it to an expert, but she felt like this was something she needed to do herself. She had picked up several instruction books on the way home and planned to read them and teach herself how to play. Perhaps it was a little like learning to ride a bike. Once learnt, never truly forgotten. At least, she hoped it would be.

There was a knock at the door and she went to answer, still fiddling with the bow. Erik stood outside, holding a letter.

"This was delivered to my box by accident." He said, handing it to her. She smiled.

"Oh, thanks."

"You play the violin?" He asked, glancing at the bow. She laughed slightly.

"Not yet. I bought one this afternoon, bit of an impulse buy. I learnt a little as a child but I'd love to take it up again."

"May I see it?"

Christine's eyebrows shot up in surprise but she stepped back to let him in, leading him to the kitchen. He examined the instrument, wet varnish still gleaming.

"What condition was it in?" He asked.

"Not great. I mean, it looked like it would play but the wood was scuffed up. Hence the varnish. But I think this bow might be past its prime." Christine said. He nodded.

"It is. I have several spares; you may take one if you wish."

"Really? That's fantastic, thanks!" She beamed at him and he straightened uncomfortably.

"You will need to replace the strings and tune it. But it should play well enough."

"Would you like some coffee or something?" Christine asked quickly.

Erik hesitated.

"…No, thank you. I have work to be getting on with."

"Oh. Another time then?" She asked. Erik blinked and nodded briefly.

"Perhaps. Excuse me." He let himself out. Christine stared at the door and shook her head. He must be one of those misunderstood, artistic types. Still, he was damn good at his job. Mr Khan had sent a CD of one of the pieces from _Il Muto_ to the office and she had fallen in love with it. She should have told him so, she thought regretfully.

* * *

"A violin. You bought a violin." Stuart said blankly. Christine smiled at his expression.

"Yes."

"Do you even _play_ the violin?"

"Not yet. But I'm going to teach myself." She said, nudging his foot with hers under the table. "Are you saying than you've never done anything completely off the ball like that? Impulse buy something totally unnecessary?"

"Well, sure. But not a musical instrument."

"What was the last thing you impulse bought?" Christine demanded. Stuart considered.

"A DVD box set."

"…Is that it?"

"It was £150." He said defensively.

Christine snorted with laughter. Stuart joined in and said,

"It was a really _good_ box set! And at least I'll get some use out of it!"

"I'll get use out of my violin." Christine said firmly. "Once the varnish has dried, Mr Destler said I could use one of his spare bows and I'll start teaching myself."

"And I'm sure you'll sound amazing." Stuart smiled. Christine felt the heat rise in her cheeks and inwardly kicked herself for it. Luckily Stuart didn't seem to notice, since he glanced at his watch.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No. Why don't you come to my place? I can make us something." Christine offered.

"Sounds great."

A stir-fry was decided upon. Quick and filling, Christine sliced peppers to go into the mix whilst chattering away to Stuart and slapping his fingers as they inched closer to the vegetables.

"Stop that, or there won't be enough!" She scolded him. He grinned.

"You sound just like my mum."

"She must be a very sensible woman." Christine said haughtily. Stuart nodded and eyed her as he munched on a pepper.

"Do you want to meet her?" He asked.

"Who?" Christine said vaguely.

"My mum. And Dad. And sister and grandparents."

"What, all in one go?" She seemed positively alarmed by the idea. Stuart laughed.

"Yeah. Lunch on Sunday, she told me to invite you. I've told them all about you."

Christine didn't know whether to smile or smack him.

"Well… yes. OK." She said.

"Excellent! I'll call her tomorrow." Stuart smiled. "They're going to love you."

"Stop grovelling, I already said that I'd go."

"But you're so amazing, and smart and beautiful and funny and-" Christine handed him a piece of pepper.

"Eat this and shut up."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

"_Erik, you have to stop this!" She said, her face burning in anger. She was beautiful when she was angry, the passion causing her eyes to glitter ferociously. But Erik didn't even notice. He slammed his hands down on the table._

"_I CAN'T!"_

"_You _have _to." She hissed. "If you carry on like this you'll make yourself sick and I won't be here to clear up after you, not again!"_

"_Don't you understand how important this?" Erik demanded. "Don't you even realise what this means?"_

"_Yes, Erik, I know how important that bloody opera is." She spat. "But your health is important too! I swear to God, if I didn't love you as much as I do, I'd have torn that opera up months ago!"_

_Erik stared at her. She was fuming, her hair flowing around her face like a river of black silk and her eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath._

"_Fine. I will leave it for one night. Just one."_

"…_That's a start." She said quietly, recognising exactly how much of a sacrifice this was for him. Erik slipped the manuscript into the folder and put it away. A pair of slender arms wound around his waist and he felt her head resting against his back._

"_Thank you, Erik."_

_

* * *

_

"Chrissie?" She frowned slightly, not opening her eyes. Who called her _Chrissie_? "C'mon, I need to go to the bathroom."

"Wha?" She opened her eyes blearily and saw Stuart grinning down at her. They had been watching a movie. She must have fallen asleep with her head in his lap.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. Not that I don't enjoy this, but your head is pressing onto my bladder and I had quite a lot of wine at dinner."

"OK, I don't need to know the details of your urination habits." Christine said, sitting up hastily.

Stuart hastily made his way to the bathroom and Christine turned the television off. Looking at the clock, she realised that it was nearly eleven at night. Stuart emerged, wiping his damp hands on his jeans. He whistled, looking at the clock.

"I'd better get going." He moved around, collecting his things whilst Christine tided up their mess. Once he was bundled up in his coat, gloves and scarf, she walked him to the elevator.

"I'll call you tomorrow and then I'll pick you up on Sunday for lunch, OK?" He smiled. Christine nodded and kissed him.

"Sounds good."

"Great."

He opened the elevator and it carried him away. Christine moved back down the corridor to her apartment and closed the door behind her. Looking around the empty rooms, she sighed and went to her bedroom to sleep.

* * *

It was finished. Christine smiled with pleasure as she examined the violin from top to end. The varnish had dried perfectly leaving a beautiful sheen to the dark wood. She had read the first chapter of one of the books and was now ready to try playing again.

All she needed was a bow. She crossed the hallway to apartment 5a and knocked. A few moments later the door opened and Erik Destler appeared, immaculately dressed as always. Christine smiled.

"Good morning Mr Destler. I was just wondering if I could hold you to that bow."

"Ah, of course. Come in." He stepped back and Christine moved inside, giving her a proper chance to look around the apartment.

The layout was the same as hers. She had entered straight into the living room, although Mr Destler's was painted dark red, rather than the bland beige of her own apartment. It was decorated so stylishly that Christine was extremely impressed. Mahogany furniture, the three-piece suite in the same burgundy colour as the walls and several classical pieces of art hung on the walls. What made Christine smile was the sight of a piano in the corner of the room.

"Please come through." Mr Destler said and she followed him to where she had made the study in her apartment. His, however, was filled with musical instruments, including a second piano and cabinets filled with other instruments from every group.

He went to one cabinet and removed a bow.

"This one is good, almost new. I barely use it though." He said. But Christine was staring at the instruments that surrounded her. He watched her as she peered into a cabinet of wind instruments.

"Mr Destler, these are _beautiful_." She breathed. He gave a miniscule smile.

"Yes. I'm rather proud of all of these instruments. I hand chose them."

"They must have cost a fortune! And that is gorgeous." She looked at the piano. Erik scratched his chin.

"I am fortunate that money is not an issue. And that piano is very nearly unique, a very rare make."

Christine smiled.

"It must be wonderful to have such an amazing job. Doing something you love and getting paid for it."

"You don't enjoy advertising?"

"Of course, it's brilliant. But it'll always be a job; it couldn't be something that I do for enjoyment as well." She pointed out.

"What do you do for enjoyment?"

"Not much. I don't really have that much spare time." Christine sighed. "I play a little music, obviously. But I stopped playing after I left school, I just didn't have time for it once I started university."

Erik watched as she glanced at the music on the piano.

"Another opera?"

"One I have been working on for many years. And one that will probably never be performed." He said quietly. Christine frowned slightly.

"Why not? I've heard your music, it's amazing."

"That particular piece is… different." He said. Christine nodded, not understanding in the least but recognising that he did not want to speak about it.

Erik handed the bow to her.

"Here."

"Thanks." She replied, taking it carefully. "Well, I'm going to go and see whether or not I sound like a cat in a blender." He looked rather amused by the simile and showed her to the door.

* * *

"How goes the violin practise?" Stuart asked over the phone. Christine laughed dryly.

"Oh God, don't ask. It's going to take a lot of work."

"What fun would it be if it wasn't?" He reminded her and she had to admit that that was true.

"By the way, Mum and Dad can't wait to see you. Gran and Grandad are coming too and Kerry's come home for the weekend too."

"What should I wear?" Christine asked quickly. "Is it dress-up or casual?"

"Definitely casual."

"But not too casual. I don't want to look like a slob."

"Christine, you always look gorgeous." Stuart laughed. "Just dress comfortably and don't worry."

It was all very well _him_ saying that, Christine though crossly as she put the phone down. He'd never have to meet her parents.

* * *

Stuart picked her up the next day. He was waiting in the car and rang her up to let her know he was there.

"Better bring a coat, its freezing out here." He warned. Christine slipped a coat on over her smart, dark jeans and comfortable green jumper before heading downstairs. She climbed into the car and he leaned over to kiss her.

"Good morning."

"Hi." She smiled and then rubbed her hands together. "I hope it doesn't snow. It's so cold already."

"I like snow." Stuart replied, pulling out of the car park and making a left turn.

"It's too cold. It looks pretty at first but then everyone walks all over it and it turns to slush." Christine said.

"It's romantic and it looks very seasonal. After all, it's nearly December."

"Not for another week." Christine replied firmly. "It can snow all it likes then. But I reserve November for the non-snowing kind of weather."

Stuart's parents lived in a detached, red-brick house with a white car on the driveway. Christine climbed out the car, nervously clutching the bottle of wine they had picked up on the way. Stuart smiled at her.

"Don't be scared. They don't bite."

"I'm not scared." She insisted. He wrapped an arm around her waist.

"They'll adore you. How could they not?"

"I think you're a little biased."

"Quite probably." He said, marching her to the front door and pressing the doorbell. It sounded with a cheerful _ding_ and it flew open to reveal a young woman with the same dark blonde hair as Stuart. It fell to her shoulders, framing a pretty, intelligent face with piercing eyes behind thin wire spectacles.

"Hey Kerry." Stuart grinned, pulling his sister into a one-armed hug. She grimaced but relented.

"Hi Stuart."

"Christine, this is my little sis, Kerry. Christine Daae." Stuart said, his hand reaching for Christine's. Kerry smiled warmly at her.

"Hi Christine. Come in, it's seriously cold out there."

They went into the warm, cosy house and entered a sitting room. Two men were sat inside, Stuart's father and Grandad. His father stood up.

"Stuart!"

"Hi Dad. Grandad." He hugged both of them briefly before pulling Christine forward. "This is Christine Daae."

"It's nice to meet you." Christine said with a nervous smile, offering a hand. Stuart's father laughed and shook it.

"And you, Christine. I'm Roy and that's my father, Edmund." He turned to Edmund, who was peering at them over the top of the Sunday newspaper. "Dad, this is Stuart's friend, Christine."

Edmund eyed her.

"Pretty one." He mumbled, before returning to his reading. Christine flushed and Stuart grinned.

"The kitchen's through there. Mum and Gran are probably cooking."

"What?" Christine said in alarm. Stuart smiled and pushed her to the door. She gave him a look that quite clearly said _you will pay_ and went through into the kitchen. Two women were bustling about, chattering cheerfully over the song playing on the radio. Christine hesitated in the doorway until the younger of the pair spotted her, a women in her late forties with short, light brown hair, a couple of grey strands poking through.

"Oh, you must be Christine!" She said, wiping her hands on a towel and tossing it to one side. She was wearing a long denim skirt and a plain white t-shirt. Christine nodded.

"Yes, Christine Daae."

"Marsha, Stuart's mother. And this is Hilly, his grandmother. Short for Hillary, but she can't stand being called that."

Hilly was one of those women who clearly revelled in old age. The sort of woman you would see emerging from the library one morning and the gym the next. She was clad in dark trousers and a classy lavender blouse with a string of fake pearls hanging around her neck, her white hair curled lavishly. She smiled.

"I'll say one thing for my grandson; he's got good taste in women." Christine smiled, embarrassed and held out the wine.

"Stuart and I picked this up."

"Wonderful, that'll go perfectly with dinner. I hope you like roast chicken?" Marsha asked.

"I love it."

"Excellent. A drink?"

And the ice was broken. Kerry joined them soon enough and they sat around talking until a timer rang, signalling that everything was ready to be put on the table. Christine helped eagerly and Stuart laughed as he came in from the living room.

"They've got you running errands already? That must be some kind of record."

"I'm just naturally helpful." Christine said haughtily as they sat down. She was seated between Stuart and Kerry. As they helped themselves to food, Hilly asked,

"What is it that you do, Christine? We've been nagging Stuart for details about you but he wouldn't budge."

"I'm in advertising." She replied, passing a basket of bread rolls along the table. "Graphics designing, mostly. But it varies from project to project."

"What are you working on at the moment?" Kerry asked.

"An opera at the Hawthorn Theatre. _Il Muto_, I'm on poster designing and after this I think I'm doing a novel cover." Christine replied, trying to remember what Firmin had said at the meeting.

"Another Piangi novel?" Stuart asked.

"No, I think it's a thriller from Noel Lefevre." Christine said. Roy looked up in interest.

"Lefevre? He's an excellent writer; I just bought a book of his."

"That's a pretty cool job." Kerry said approvingly. Christine smiled.

"It's hard, but I love it."

Dinner went comfortably and Christine was surprised at just how at ease she was with these people. But about halfway through dinner came an extremely tense moment, just as they were discussing occupations when Roy said,

"So what do your parents do, Christine?" Stuart looked rather uncomfortable but Christine put a hand on his.

"It's OK." She said quietly before saying to Roy, "I'm afraid my parents are both dead now."

Roy looked horrified and Marsha glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Christine."

"No, it's fine. It was quite a long time ago." Christine insisted. But, just to make sure than moment was past, she looked over at Marsha. "Stuart mentioned that you do some gardening?"

The conversation turned to gardening. Second safest conversation topic only to the weather.

* * *

"Didn't I tell you that it would be fine?" Stuart said as they drove home that evening. Christine smiled.

"Yes, you did."

"And I was right. Huh." He was silent for a moment. "That doesn't usually happen. Something must be wrong."

"Oh, give over. Stop milking it." Christine said, nudging his arm as he drew up outside the apartment building.

Stuart put the handbrake on and looked over at her, marvelling at how even in the fake yellow light of the car's illumination she still looked stunning. She unclipped her seatbelt and looked sideways at him.

"Thank you. I really enjoyed meeting them." She said softly. Stuart leant over and caught her in a kiss, his hand resting on her cheek. She responded warmly to the kiss, one hand playing gently with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. After a few moments they drew apart and Stuart whispered,

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"The café at 8:15, same as always." Christine replied, rather reluctantly moving from his warm embrace. She said goodbye and hurried into the warmth of the building. As she moved along to her apartment, she paused, hoping to catch the strains of music from 5a. But all was silent so she entered her apartment and went straight to bed, physically and emotionally drained.

**A/N: Not sure about this chapter. But never mind, it's up and done. And with considerably more Erik than the previous chapter. He will be making more appearances in future chapters, I promise! **

**I had some great news today. I've been applying to universities for next year and found out today that all six universities are giving me conditional offers! I am overjoyed, I was terrified that my first place wouldn't accept me! It's nice to have something to smile about again.**

**Lotsa luv 'n' huggles**

**Katie**


	7. Seasonal Shopping

**The Girl Next Door**

"'_Tis_ _the season to be jolly_!" Meg warbled as she pranced around the office. Christine looked up in amusement from her desk as Sorelli began to 'fa la la'.

"It's still two weeks until Christmas!" Christine laughed, sending an email. Meg pouted.

"And I'm getting into the holiday spirit!"

"I love Christmas, I can't wait to go and see Mum and Dad." Sorelli said happily, stapling two pieces of paper together and dropping them onto a pile. Christine's smile faded slightly and she opened a new word document as Meg and Sorelli began to discuss their family plans. Carlotta soon joined them.

"Well, my family and I always go away for the holidays. I can't stand this cold weather. I believe we're heading for Spain this year. We have a villa there." She said elegantly.

"Well who doesn't?" Sorelli said innocently.

Christine moved past to collect something from the printer and Carlotta glanced at her.

"What about you?" She asked in a falsely friendly tone.

"What _about_ me?" Christine said, examining the freshly printed paper.

"What are you doing for the holidays?"

"Nothing. I don't tend to celebrate. I go to Mass on Christmas Eve and that's it." Christine said. Carlotta looked appalled.

"How dull!"

"I don't have any family, it seems like a pointless exercise to celebrate by myself." Christine explained. Carlotta wrinkled her perfect nose.

"How very boring it must be. Anyway, must be going. Richard wanted to talk to me before lunch." She pranced off and Christine rolled her eyes to the heavens. Meg laughed.

"She's still annoying you, huh?"

"How can she _not_ annoy you? '_How very boring_'. Urgh…" Christine pulled a face and returned to her desk.

Meg followed her, perching on the edge of her desk.

"Are you OK, Christine?"

"I'm fine. But I've got a lot of work to do. Firmin wants the novel sketches before the weekend and that _Il Muto_ poster needs to be copied up and sent out within a week or the theatre will start complaining." Christine replied, tapping away at her keyboard.

"Calm down, Chris. You've got plenty of time."

"No, Meg, I don't." Christine replied. "You're sitting on my folder." Meg jumped up and looked at the clock.

"Five minutes until lunch. I'm going to get my stuff."

* * *

"What's wrong?" Stuart asked as soon as Christine came outside at the end of the day. She looked at him.

"Nothing."

"Something is. I'm very intuitive that way. So what is it?" Stuart demanded as they walked towards Gaston Place. Christine smiled.

"It's nothing. Really. Just something someone said today. It annoyed me a little, but I'm over it." She said firmly. Stuart rolled his eyes and then stopped outside a shop, peering inside at the Christmas display.

"Oh, doesn't that look nice?" He said cheerfully, appreciative of the twinkling lights and charming decorations. Christine nodded and said,

"It's pretty. Everyone at work today was going on about Christmas, I'm sick of it already."

"What are you, the Grinch?"

"No, the Grinch had a sense of humour." Christine teased, slipping her arm through his. Stuart looked down at her as they walked the icy streets.

"I wish you could come away with us. But the holiday cottage is barely big enough to hold the family as it is."

"Stuart, for the last time, it's _fine_." Christine insisted. "And if you apologise for it one more time I'm going to hit you. Just make sure I get an extra-spectacular Christmas present."

"Well, that's a given." Stuart smiled. "I just want to go and buy a newspaper. Won't be a minute."

He disappeared inside a newsagent. Christine rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them as the shoppers passed by. How would each of them be spending Christmas, she wondered? That woman with her two small children, was there a father? That teenager, holding hands with her boyfriend, what gifts would they exchange? Christine became so lost in her own musings that she didn't notice Stuart come out of the shop. He waved a hand in front of her face and she jumped.

"What?"

"Just making sure you're still awake." He smiled, taking her hand as they continued down the street.

* * *

Christine was a big enough person to admit when she had made a mistake. And that violin had been a big mistake. She had managed to restring it, with the help of some instruction books, had repaired it to a reasonable standard and she had even tuned it.

If only she could play it.

"You _could_ have bought something useful. But no. You bought an instrument you can't play." She muttered to herself as she glared at the violin. She had been struggling to play a simple tune from the book, but for some reason it sounded terrible and Christine couldn't figure out for the life of her why that was.

Luckily there was a knock at the door, saving her from further torment. She answered it and found Erik Destler stood outside, dressed in clothes that would not have looked out of place at a formal gathering.

"Do you have _any_ casual clothes?" She said without meaning to. His eyebrow twitched and she bit her lip. "Sorry. I just… what can I do for you?"

"The information you requested on _Il Muto_. It slipped my mind whilst I was at the theatre." He handed her a folder. Christine smiled.

"Brilliant. Come on in."

"I-"

"In." She said firmly. "I want to pick your brain for ideas." He stepped inside and followed her to the kitchen, where she flicked the kettle on. "Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee."

She opened the folder and examined the drawings of the sets and costumes. They were magnificently detailed, down to the last button on the jackets and the fold in the curtains on the edge of the stage.

"Did you draw these?" She asked, looking at him. He nodded briefly and she smiled. "Wow. Very impressed."

"Thank you." The kettle boiled and she poured hot water into the coffee pot.

"How long have you been working on _Il Muto_?"

"Several years, among other projects. I was working abroad when I met Nadir Khan and he instantly commissioned me to finish and direct it."

"Where abroad? You're so lucky, I never go anywhere." Christine commented, taking out the milk and sugar.

"Iran mostly, that was where I met him. Foreign cultures are much more appealing than anything I have found here." He said. Christine smiled.

"Iran… is it nice?"

"Nice isn't really the word. It is a fascinating country." Erik said. Christine glanced down at the pictures again and tapped one.

"This is the Countess's costume?"

"For the second act, yes." She examined it closely, taking it all in.

"I'm starting work on the leaflets, but I don't just want to reproduce the posters. I like the detail in this section," she pointed to a part of the costume, "I could blow that up, incorporate some text and play around with it. If that's OK?"

"It's fine." Erik agreed. She poured them coffee and invited him into the sitting room, spreading the pictures around on the table. Erik watched in a mixture of comprehension and amusement as she animatedly discussed various possibilities. Discussed them with whom, he was unsure. She didn't seem to be addressing _him_. Eventually she carefully put the papers back into the file.

"I'll scan these onto my computer first thing tomorrow and get them back to you." She said. He nodded and glanced sideways at the violin sitting on the chair. He'd been waiting until she seemed ready to let him talk so he could mention it.

"How are you managing with your new instrument?"

"Don't even _mention_ the horrible thing. I never should have bought it." Christine grumbled, throwing a dark look in the direction of the innocent violin. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"Has it offended you?"

"Yes. By being completely unplayable."

He picked it up, as well as the bow that lay beside it and played a few notes in quick succession. Christine scowled and said,

"Well… you do it for a living; it's only natural that you would be able to play it." A smirk crossed his face and she sighed. "Fine. The natural talent I thought I had doesn't exist."

"You don't need natural talent. You need to practise. It's selfishness to play something well without working for it." Erik commented, setting the violin carefully down.

"All those instruments you have, you learned each one?"

"No. I'm selfish; it all came very naturally to me." He replied dryly and Christine smiled. "Not that I didn't have to practise in order to perfect them."

Christine stood up and went to place the violin carefully back in its case.

"I set myself an aim; I was hoping to learn a simple song by the time Christmas came. I'll have to do a lot of practising at this rate."

"Why Christmas?"

"It seemed a good target, not too soon but not too far away." She shrugged. "Christmas isn't really a very particular time for me."

"You don't celebrate?" Erik said vaguely, running pale, slender-fingered hands over the piano.

"No one to celebrate with and it's a little pathetic to do it by myself." Christine said, snapping the clasps on the violin case. He looked up, a quizzical look in his green eyes.

"I thought you were seeing that boy."

"That _boy_ is twenty-five." She said with a little grin. "And he's going away with his family, it's their tradition. Anyway, I just go to church on Christmas Eve and then I usually spend the day watching Christmas specials or reading. Hardly a thrilling existence."

She was struck by a sudden thought.

"What about you?"

"Similar circumstances. Except that I don't celebrate it at all. I never have." He said, playing a short, sweet tune on the keys.

"Well, feel free to come to Mass with me. It's a lovely church, very picturesque and the service is always nice." She suggested. He looked at her, his eyes darkened. How did they manage to change colour like that? Different shades, always changing.

"I am not on good terms with the higher power. We have our irresolvable differences." He said, and something in his voice suggested that she should not push for answers.

Not that she would have dared. He was a very intimidating man.

"Your choice. But at least come over for a drink on Christmas Day." She shrugged.

"We'll see." He stood and glanced at the clock. "I have a few things to do. Thank you for the coffee."

"You're welcome." She showed him to the door and then turned back to look at the violin case. She _really_ didn't want to practise right now. Having heard Erik Destler play so wonderfully was something of an ego-killer.

* * *

Christmas shopping, as so many people know, is something that can either be wonderfully enjoyable or dreaded beyond all belief. For Christine, it was the latter. The idea of pushing through a crowded shopping centre, surrounded by screaming children and pushing customers did not appeal.

Three hours after she had begun her shopping she collapsed in a café and ordered a strong coffee to give her the strength to get home. She checked her list. Only Stuart left to buy for now. Leave the worst until last; she had _no_ idea of what to get him!

As she sat at the table, she went over some ideas in her head, dismissing them one after the other. What did you get for the man you had been seeing for two months? It had to be meaningful but not too… serious. Christine scratched her cheek, staring out of the café window, searching for inspiration from passing shoppers. He was a big fan of old films, they'd already watched several together. Perhaps a DVD set, something film related? A spark flowed through her mind as she remembered that there was a memorabilia shop down on of the side streets. That would be perfect, there would surely be _something _for Stuart!

She drained her coffee cup and hurried off in the direction of the little shop. Once inside Christine hunted the crowded shelves for the perfect gift. The rugged looking man behind the counter eyed her curiously as she scurried about.

"Looking for something in particular?"

"A Christmas present for my boyfriend. He loves old films." She explained. He grinned.

"On the far side of that case, big display on 40's films. Some good stuff in there." She went to look and came back beaming with delight at the signed photographs and rare DVD's that she had found there.

Christine left the shop feeling thoroughly self-satisfied and was just considering calling Meg to see if she wanted to meet and do something together when she spotted something in a shop window. She stopped and peered through the glass. It was a musical box, with a small monkey placed above it, with tiny cymbals in his paws. There was something… _odd_ about it. A quirkiness that you couldn't have found in some manufactured piece of work. There was a small card beside it.

_A papier-mâché music box in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes, playing the cymbals. Still in working order_.

Persia… hadn't Iran been part of Persia once? Christine felt a smile pull at her mouth. This _had_ to be more than coincidence. That box would be the perfect gift for Mr Destler. It was unusual and strange. Christine pushed open the door to the shop. A woman was sat behind the counter, flicking through a magazine.

"Yes?" She said with a brief smile. Christine pointed at the window.

"The music box, the one with the monkey. How much is it?"

"That's £19. Would you like to see it?"

"Please."

She placed the box on the counter. Christine stroked the soft fur of the toy monkey.

"It plays a tune." The woman said, winding a tiny key in the back of the box and opening it. The sweet, tinkling tune floated through the air and Christine smiled at the sound.

"It's lovely…"  
"Yes, it's a very unusual piece. I've never seen anything like it and we get allsorts in here." The woman said. Christine picked it up, admiring it from every angle.

"I'll take it. It'll be the perfect gift for my neighbour."

"Wonderful. I'll just wrap it up for you so it doesn't get damaged."

* * *

"_For once I can say_

_This is mine_

_You won't take it_

_As long as I know I have love_

_I can make it_

_For once in my life _

_I have someone who needs me…"_

The crooning tones of Frank Sinatra filled the apartment as Christine sat cross-legged on the floor, wrapping Christmas presents. The CD had been a gift to herself, having always loved the singer's warm and dashing voice. She hummed along as she ran the blade of her scissors down the ribbon, so it sprang into shining curls before placing the parcel with the pile of others. Most were for friends from work, one for Firmin, one for Matt, Meg's boyfriend and the final two for Stuart and Mr Destler.

She finished wrapping and small in satisfaction as she put the work ones into a bag. They were all exchanging gifts next week in the office. The others were sat on a table in the corner until she saw them all. Excepting Mr Destler, of course, which she could just give to him closer to the date. The large pile of paper scraps and boxes that had culminated from her successful shopping trip sat pointedly by the door, so Christine packed them all into each other, singing along to the CD.

"Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…" She said, half-dancing down the corridor to the chute, the music following her out of the apartment. She tossed the bags and boxes down the chute and pranced back to her apartment door.

"In other words, please be true. In other words… I love you."

"How kind of you to say so." Said a dryly amused voice.

Christine spun around in horror to see Erik Destler smirking from his doorway, a rubbish bag in his hand. She tried to look aloof, despite the obvious flush in her cheeks.

"Mr Destler." She said calmly.

"Miss Daae." He replied. They looked at each for a moment and then Christine winced.

"OK… I still have a shred of dignity left so I'm just going to go into my apartment and cringe."

"Very well. Have a nice evening." Erik said evenly.

"And you." She nodded, slipping inside and closing the door.

Erik lifted his eyes to the ceiling, a smile playing about his mouth as he strode down the corridor. She was an interesting young lady.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the wait. It's been a HARD week. I was at the funeral of my friend yesterday and… I dunno. Been a bit numb lately. But I'll get writing properly again from now on. The songs used here are '_For Once In My Life_' and _'Fly Me To The Moon_' by Frank Sinatra.  
**

**Wow, a lot of mixed reviews for this story! Lots of you seem to prefer my old writing style, so I'm trying to mix a bit of that in as well as the new thing I'm trying out, in an attempt to make it less 'stuffy' as it was described. Thanks for the support and constructive criticism!**

**And yes, yes I know you all want E/C action but I want them to develop a friendship first! For you impatient people, here's a competely unrelated version**

**"Erik and Christine met one day. They fell in love, and although there were many difficult obstacles, somehow their love overpowered it all and they had great sex, 2.4 kids and a dog. The End."  
**

**Lotsa luv 'n' huggles**

**Katie**


	8. Peace In Me

**The Girl Next Door**

It was December 22nd. Firmin, wearing a Father Christmas hat, patted Christine's shoulder heartily.

"Excellent wine, Christine. Thank you." He kissed her cheek and she smiled. Clearly a little too much wine had been consumed.

"You're welcome, Richard."

It was the Populaire Advertising Christmas Part and spirits were high. With drinks a-plenty, food in abundance and entertainment blaring, the staff were letting go and enjoying the fun. A karaoke machine provided a cacophony of sound whilst general party games took place on the opposite side of the office. Meg and Sorelli were pelting out _I Will Survive_, interspersed with hysterical giggles as they stumbled over words. Firmin went to chat with other people and Christine helped herself to a drink, laughing as Meg and Sorelli took their bows, cheers and whoops sounding for them. They made their way to Christine who smiled.

"You two are _nuts_."

"It's fun! Don't see you getting up to have a go." Sorelli pouted. Christine was about to reply when Carlotta pushed past to claim the machine. They watched curiously as she selected a song. Christine was perfectly prepared to laugh at any attempt she made. But, of course, Carlotta ruined it for her by singing beautifully. Perhaps a little sharply on some of the higher notes, but still irritatingly good.

Meg whistled.

"Wow… she's good."

"Hmm." Christine replied in a non-committal tone. Sorelli elbowed her in the ribs.

"C'mon, you have to have a go. Let's make this rivalry thing complete hatred!"

"She is _not_ a rival. I just don't know why she's still here, what does she even do? I've never seen her working." Christine complained.

"She's only interning. I think her dad is making her do it." Sorelli replied. Carlotta finished her song, winked cheekily at the adoring audience of men who had gathered around the platform to listen to her, and leapt down, striding past. A few moments later they overheard her talking with a couple of co-workers.

"Well, yes, I've always been a good singer. Dad heard me and _insisted_ that I take lessons. Oh, no, I'd never take it up professionally; it's just not reliable, although people have often told me that I could…"

"Oh, _god_." Christine muttered, disgusted. Meg grinned at her.

"Go on, have a go. It'll be fun."

"Oh, you sing, Christine?"

Christine winced as Carlotta's voice drilled into her brain. She turned to look at her.

"A little."

"Well, you _must_ sing! After all, it's only for fun." Carlotta insisted, a very faint sneer playing about her mouth. Christine forced herself to count to ten.

"I don't think so."

"Don't tell me that you're _scared_? It's only karaoke." Carlotta said with a careless shrug.

"I'm not scared. And I'm not going to be psyched into singing." Christine said, putting her glass down. Carlotta sighed.

"Fine. Your choice." She turned back to her admirers and said in a voice that was clearly not for Christine's ears, "Lots of people feel like that after hearing me sing. I suppose they feel threatened…"

Christine bit back a snipe and Meg nudged her.

"Go on. You can do this. You can prove yourself." She whispered. Christine glanced towards the silver microphone.

How long had it been since she'd sung? Not just singing along to the radio, but singing properly? The way she had learnt at school, standing straight, head held high, mouth wide and voice clear… too long, she guessed.

Could she still do it? Could she still sing the way she had when she was young? Did she still possess the emotion and heart that was necessary to create a song? Or had everything that had happened since then destroyed her music?

"No. I have nothing to prove." Christine said flatly, draining her drink and walking away.

* * *

"Do you want to go first or shall I?" Stuart grinned. Christine lifted an eyebrow.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I thought that Christmas presents were for… Christmas."

"Three days, I think our terrible sin will be forgiven." He reached for the wrapped gift. "Gimme."

Christine laughed at his childishness and pushed the parcel towards him. He tore it open and his jaw dropped.

"Christine… where did you get this?"

"Santa's workshop. Come on, hand mine over." He smiled and passed her a flat box. She took off the paper carefully (earning an eye-roll from Stuart) and looked down at the box of black velvet. Definitely not a ring box, thank God. A necklace perhaps?

She opened the box slowly and smiled. A charm bracelet lay inside, shining silver links with two charms already hanging from it. A tiny piano and a violin. She took it out and admired it carefully.

"Stuart, it's beautiful."

"I know. I saw it and thought of you." He said with that cheeky smile. Christine laughed.

"You talk a lot of rubbish, you know that?"

"I do it so well though. Here, let me put it on for you." She held out her left wrist and he clipped it on, straightening it out. Christine smiled.

"Thank you. It's wonderful."

"What am I going to do without you for ten days?" Stuart sighed.

"Find another way to entertain yourself." Christine suggested.

"Well, what are you going to do without me?" He demanded.

"Become a recluse, shut myself off from the world, and yearn for the day when you will return."

"Hey, no need for the sarcasm." He reprimanded her.

They spent the afternoon and evening basking in each other's company and when Stuart realised exactly how late it was and how much packing he still had to do, they said their goodbyes.

"I'll call you on Christmas Day. Well… the cottage doesn't actually _have_ a phone and there's no chance of getting a reception but I think there's a phone box in the village. I'll see what I can do." He promised. Christine smiled and kissed him.

"Have a good Christmas, Stuart."

"You too. Love you."

"Love you too." Christine replied.

He ran back to his car, head bowed against the harsh wind. Christine glanced up at the sky. It was cloudy and snow threatened. She waved goodbye to Stuart as he drove past before entering the warm shelter of the apartment building. She crossed to the boxes where their post was placed and opened the one with 5b written on it. There were two letters and a parcel inside. She glanced at the letters. One was her bank statement and the other was a Christmas card from some woman she'd been at college with. Christine guessed she was now just a name in an address book, rather than a meaningful person.

She looked at the parcel as she went up in the lift. There was no return address. She pulled off the paper and found a cardboard box inside, with a label on top. Christine walked along and was just outside her apartment door when she recognised the handwriting. Her heart skipped a beat and ice flooded through her veins, quickly replaced by burning rage. Without bothering to open the box, she marched along to the rubbish chute and threw the box and its wrappings into the dark hole before returning to her apartment.

* * *

The music acted as a kind of anaesthetic. It numbed him from the core of his soul and made him forget that today was Christmas Eve.

For, try as he might, Erik could not help but imagine what other people were doing on this frosty evening. They might be at home, watching television together. They might be greeting friends in from the cold to celebrate the arrival of the holiday.

And he was sat at his piano, playing some piece he had written so long ago that he did not even have to look at the music to play it anymore. Eventually he lifted his fingers from the keys and turned his head slowly to look out of the window. It was dark and he clearly saw the reflection of himself in the mirror.

No… all he saw was the white mask.

He grazed its cool surface with his fingertips and then turned away from the reflection. He hated this feeling. It was easy to be numb and empty the rest of the year. But he always found that at this time it was harder.

Because she was no longer here.

_No!_

He shook his head swiftly, shaking the thought of her from his mind. That way lay insanity of the worst and most painful kind and he would not suffer it again. He had already suffered from it too much.

Erik got to his feet and walked swiftly to the door. He pulled on a long, dark coat in the black leather. Black leather gloves, a black scarf and a black hat, pulled low over his face. He opened his door and for the briefest moment contemplated the door opposite before heading for the elevator.

On the cold street outside, he paused for a second to watch his brief form into white clouds. It was comforting, in an odd sort of way. It reminded him of his humanity.

There were few people out on the streets at this time. He walked swiftly, purposefully heading towards nowhere. He thought of everything and nothing, of life and death, of love and hate. So many contrasts that he could relate to. Separate times in his life had given him everything of just one kind. He rarely had both at the same time.

A family were walking past, laughing and talking warmly. The father nodded to him with a wide smile before hurrying past, eager to escape the coldness that Erik welcomed. Erik watched them pass before continuing on his way.

The ground had a thin, crisp layer of frost, freezing blades of grass in suspended existence. Erik stepped past, watching a world that had slowed and stopped, in anticipation of the day that was to come. He took in a breath of air, relishing the coolness of it, flooding through him and assuring him that, yes, he _was_ alive.

As if waking from a daydream, Erik looked around to see where he was and was surprised to find himself outside a church, of all places. The lights were shining brightly and he heard singing come from the door. Slowly, he moved to the open door and stood in its shadow, observing the people within.

It must have been near the end of the service, for people were beginning to pull on coats and scarves as they sang.

**_O Come All Ye Faithful  
Joyful and triumphant,  
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem._**

There was something wonderful about that sound, Erik thought vaguely. The sound of so many people singing together in the joy of one thing.

**_Come and behold Him,  
Born the King of Angels;  
O come, let us adore Him,  
O come, let us adore Him,  
O come, let us adore Him,  
Christ the Lord._**

The music came to an end and people began to move towards the doors, talking and embracing, the words "Merry Christmas" sounding over and over again as people went their separate ways, to their own homes, their own families, their own celebrations.

Erik waited until the church was near enough empty before stepping inside. He walked tentatively, feeling very much unwelcome until he stood before the altar at the front of the church. There were few people around, a few women collecting hymnbooks and some other people carrying guitars and music stands from the church. Erik made sure that they were all duly occupied before removing his hat and looking up at the crucifix on the wall. The tormented figure that hung there looked down, his eyes emotionless.

Erik looked away, uncomfortable with the closeness he was feeling from the man. His eyes were averted instead to the Nativity Crib nearby. He moved over to look, breathing in the heavy scent of incense and the fragrance of the poinsettias that were set around, their red leaves colourful and appealing.

Erik looked down at the figures gathered around the manger, where the tiny figure of the infant saviour lay. Did he already know what his fate would be? Erik wondered. A basket of coins was sat nearby and he dropped some money in before turning to leave. But a sweet, female voice stopped him.

"Mr Destler?"

He looked around and saw Christine Daae stood by a pew. She looked at him in surprise.

"I didn't expect to see you here." She admitted with a smile. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I only arrived at the end." He said quietly. Christine nodded and tilted her head.

"I thought that you didn't like Him." She looked up at the crucifix.

Erik scratched his exposed cheek.

"I felt that… I should come and pay my respects."

"Well, that's good." Christine smiled, moving over to stand by him. "After all… it _is_ his birthday."

* * *

They walked home together. Christine laughed at him.

"You just decided to go for a random walk and ended up at a church? That, Mr Destler, is called Divine Intervention."

"It was not divine, it was convenient."

"Nonsense. Just admit that He felt you could use a break. I'm not exactly a good Christian; I'm not a regular at church. But He's still there when I need him." Christine said. She reached into her coat and pulled out the cross that lay around her neck. "It's not as if He just ignores us, even if we do it to Him."

"And how do you know?" Erik demanded. Christine smiled.

"Because otherwise He wouldn't love us. And He does."

"But how do you know?" Erik repeated. Christine looked up at him, her dark eyes smiling.

"Because if He didn't, we would be alone. And we're not."

Erik didn't reply to that. Christine noticed his silence but didn't comment on it. As they reached the apartment building, she paused outside and looked up at him.

"Mr Destler?"

"Yes?"

"What made you go into the church? You said yourself that you ended up there by accident. You didn't need to go in, but you did. Why?"

Erik considered the question carefully. It was a good one. He wasn't entirely sure why but he settled for saying,

"I heard singing. I suppose I wanted to see what could cause a sound so joyous."

"It's called faith." Christine explained.

"I'm afraid that I'm lacking it."

"There's time." She said with a smile, putting the door code in and stepping into the warmth. Erik lifted an eyebrow as he removed his hat.

"Is there?"

"Of course." She laughed suddenly. "Would you listen to me? I sound like some born-again Christian! I hardly ever go to church and here I am pressuring you about believing. Talk about hypocritical."

"Does going to church make you a Christian?" Erik asked. "Can't you talk to God anywhere?"

"He _is_ everywhere. So I suppose you could." Christine shrugged as they stepped into the elevator.

Erik was silent for a moment.

"I don't think he would listen if I prayed."

"Of course he would. He listens to everyone."

"He wouldn't reply."

"Does he need to? Haven't you ever just wanted to talk to someone just to get something off your chest?" One look at his face told her that he hadn't. She chewed the inside of her cheek. "It does you good. It makes you feel… peaceful."

He could not remember the last time he had felt peace. That was a little troubling. Erik watched the buttons light up as they passed the floors, contemplating the idea. What _was_ peace?

Christine clearly noticed his silence, because as they walked to their doors, she said,

"Are you… offended?"

"No, why should I be?"

"I don't know." She admitted. She glanced at him and then an idea struck her. She reached up and unclipped her cross. It caught the light briefly and Erik watched it, until he was distracted as her slender fingers wrapped around his bare hand, lifting it up. The metal cross, still warm from her skin, fell into his palm.

"Take this for tonight. See if you can find a little peace." She said. Erik was astonished, not sure of how to react. But he had no time for Christine simply smiled and said,

"Goodnight Mr Destler."

"…Miss Daae?"

She looked over her shoulder, as she slid the key into the lock.

"Yes?"

"I would… appreciate it if you called me Erik." He said, a little awkward. Christine nodded and smiled in pleasure.

"OK. But you have to call me Christine. Goodnight Erik."

"Goodnight Miss- Christine."

She closed the door behind her and Erik went into his own apartment. He took off his outdoor clothes and then walked the piano where he had been at the evening's beginning. He still clasped the small cross in his hand. Once sat at his beloved instrument, he examined it more closely. It was very simple, made of silver with no noticeable pattern on it.

Simply a cross. Yet Christine Daae truly believed that this could bring her closer to God. Erik swallowed and then tightened his hold on the cross. It pressed into his skin. He was not quite ready to hold conversations with the Higher Being.

But he could still say a prayer. For Christine Daae, for Nadir Khan.

For _her_.

**A/N: I'm actually quite pleased with the way this chapter came out. It seemed very different from my usual writing. It's a very Christmassy piece, because I just watched 'Scrooge' and I'm in the Christmas mood! I think we got to know Christine a bit better, got inside her head. And it was nice to write from Erik's point of view for a change. There's a lot going on inside of that character and I'm always afraid that I won't get it right.**

**The song is 'O Come All Ye Faithful', in case you didn't guess. Don't know who wrote it, but it's sure as heck not mine!**

**Lotsa luv**

**Katie**


	9. Wine and Wisdom

**The Girl Next Door**

Christine was granted the rare luxury of sleeping late the next morning. She only awoke when the incessant ringing of the telephone drilled into her skull. She lifted her head from the pillow and felt around on the bedside table, knocking a book from it.

"Hello?" She yawned, glancing at the clock, which read 11:15.

"Hey Christine. Merry Christmas!" Said a cheerful voice. Christine smiled, collapsing back onto the pillows.

"Merry Christmas, Stuart."

"So, what did you get from Father Christmas?" He teased. Christine groaned.

"I haven't even _looked_. I'm still in bed."

"You lazy woman!"

"Yeah, yeah…" She smiled. "What about you?"

"Socks. Plenty of socks. Gran is still convinced I'm ten years old."

"You can never have too many socks." Christine told him solemnly.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Stuart said goodbye and Christine put the phone down. She debated for a short while over whether to have breakfast first and then have a shower, or the other way around. Eventually she decided on the shower, scrubbing her face and rinsing her hair. Christine pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pinning her hair into a loose bun at the back of her head. Putting the radio on, she listened to one of those Christmas songs that all sound so similar you couldn't tell one from the other as she made her coffee.

As she tucked into a bacon sandwich, her eyes fell upon the cheerfully wrapped gift for Mr De- Erik. Christine swallowed her mouthful and decided to wait until the afternoon before going to give it to him. There were several gifts for her from people at work. She sat on the sofa and reached for the one from Meg. It was a basket of bath salts and bubble bath mixtures. Christine smiled and unwrapped the rest of the presents.

* * *

She spent the morning watching television and sat at the piano. She was just reaching for another song to play when there was a knock at the door. She crossed to it and found Erik Destler outside.

"Merry Christmas." She said with a smile.

"And to you." He held out a bottle of wine in one hand and her cross in the other. She took them and then stepped back, letting him into the apartment.

"Did it help?" She asked, nodding to the cross. Erik deliberated over his answer.

"I found a little peace. If only for a few short hours."

"Then it helped." Christine said decisively. She held up the wine. "Want some?"

He nodded and she disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, Erik was stood by the piano, looking at the song she had been playing.

"No white Christmas." She said, glancing out of the window. A thick frost scattered the ground, but there was no sign of snow. Erik nodded.

"Snow is an overrated experience."

"I'll agree with you there. It looks pretty but that's as much as I like about it." Christine said, handing him a glass of wine. He accepted it and said,

"May I hear you play?"

"Oh… I don't know. You're an expert and I don't-" Christine mumbled. But he was looking at her intensely, his green eyes boring into hers. Reluctantly she sat at the piano and began to play that music that was perched on it. But suddenly her fingers seemed to have swollen twice their normal size and they stumbled over the keys. She stopped hastily.

"I _can_ play better than that. I just… you make me nervous."

"Why?"

"Because you are a musician. And I'm just…" She made a helpless gesture and Erik lifted his eyebrow a couple of millimetres.

"Just what?"

"…I just like to play." She said, appalled at how weak it sounded. A miniscule smile touched Erik's mouth and he said,

"Then play. Pretend I'm not here."

He moved out of her eyesight, standing on the opposite side of the living room. Christine took a deep breath.

_He's not here… you're alone… nobody here at all…_

She began to play again, concentrating on everything _but_ the man standing behind her. She thought about Christmas, about Stuart, about the second bar where the notes quickened briefly, about the charm bracelet on her wrist reflecting little lights onto the music.

The music drifted into silence and they were both silent for a moment before Erik said,

"That was much better." He walked back over to stand by the piano. Christine smiled.

"It was easier that time. Perhaps one day I'll be able to play properly for you."

"Perhaps." He agreed.

* * *

A bottle of wine later found them sat down, avidly discussing… well, nothing in particular.

"We had the staff Christmas party a few days ago. It was a bloody nightmare." Christine muttered. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"What made it such a terrible ordeal?"

"Do you know Carlotta Guidacelli?"

"I met her briefly."

"Well, I can't stand her. She annoys me so much. Anyway, she got up on this karaoke machine and blew everyone away and I hated it."

"Why?" Erik asked curiously. Christine picked at a stray thread on her t-shirt.

"Because… I used to sing. I was pretty good. At least, everyone told me that I was. And Carlotta was trying to goad me into singing, probably because she thought I'd screw it up. And, just for a moment, I _wanted_ to get up there and sing."

"Why didn't you?"

"One, I haven't sung since school and two, I didn't want her to gain the upper hand. I know it's petty and stupid, but it was a matter of pride."

Erik considered her for a moment.

"Pride can be an asset. It depends how far you are willing to go in order to keep it."

"With my attitude disorder, too far."

"What attitude disorder might that be?" Erik smirked. Christine sighed.

"Stubbornness. I don't like admitting when I'm wrong. I never change my mind. I don't like people saying things I don't want to hear."

"That isn't an attitude disorder. That's human nature." Erik told her firmly.

"Human nature? That's a little general." Christine commented. "Surely not everyone is like that."

"_Cruelty has a human heart_

_And Jealousy a human face_

_Terror the human form divine_

_And Secrecy the human dress_." Erik quoted. Christine looked at him blankly. "William Blake. It's a very apt description, don't you think?"

"I think William Blake must have been a very depressing man. And he can't have had many friends if that's how he saw the world." Christine said firmly. Erik smiled briefly.

"You think so? Perhaps he just saw things more clearly. What's to say that we don't all just hide behind a facade?"

"Because if we did, I wouldn't get so annoyed at Carlotta Guidacelli." Christine said frankly.

She looked across at him, examining him for a moment in silence.

"Erik, can I ask you something?"

"I know what you're going to ask." He said swiftly. She blinked.

"Oh?"

"You're going to ask about the mask."

"…Well, yes."

"You want to know what is underneath and why I wear it."

"…Yes."

He sighed and met her eyes.

"No."

"Fair enough." Christine said. It was an understandable reaction, even if she was still rather curious. She considered him for a moment. "Can I ask you a different question?"

"You may."

"How old are you? You called Stuart a 'young man' but you don't look much older than us."

"I am thirty-seven." He said, accepting another glass of wine. Christine was surprised.

"You don't look it."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He said wryly. Christine laughed and then looked at the clock in the surprise.

"Five-thirty? I didn't realise how much time had passed. Do you want to stay for food? I don't know what there is but I'll find something."

"No, I won't take up anymore of your time." Erik said, putting his glass down. Christine looked at him frankly.

"And what are you going to do by yourself on Christmas Day? I don't have anything to do, and you've already as good as admitted that you don't. So stay."

She put his glass back in his hand and leant back in her chair. Erik looked as though he were trying to decide whether to be irritated or entertained. He settled for a resigned surrender. Christine, pleased at having won the argument, picked up her drink and said,

"How long have you been living here?"

"Two years. Nadir found it for me."

"How long have you been working with him?"

"Six years." He didn't elaborate, seemingly lost for a moment in his thoughts, before his eyes cleared and he decided to jump in with a question of his own. "What made you move in here?"

"I needed a place and my boss found this one for me."

"Where were you living before?"

"Other side of town. Not too far. But far enough." Christine said. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"That's a very cryptic answer."

Christine smiled weakly.

"There are some things that happened that I wish hadn't. I needed to put some space between me and them."

"What things?" He asked. Christine shook her head with a little smile.

"That's my mask."

"I'm sorry?"

"You won't answer questions about your mask. I won't answer them about… about what happened before I came here."

"That's fair. We all have things in our past that we regret."

There was a moment of silence. And in that moment a sort of understanding shot between them. Christine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and said,

"I'll go and see what there is to eat. Do you like pasta? I think there's some sauce."

"That sounds good."

* * *

As Erik prepared to leave, several hours later, Christine had finally worked up the courage to give him his gift. She went into the study and returned with the wrapped gift, thrusting it into his hands, a little shyly.

"Here."

"What…?"

"It's Christmas. Hence - Christmas present." She said. Erik felt immediately awkward.

"I didn't get you anything."

"You brought wine and saved me from a horrific fate of holiday television specials." Christine smiled. "Don't open it now though, I'd be too embarrassed."

Erik nodded and offered a faint smile.

"Thank you, Christine. This has been an enjoyable day."

"For me too." He lifted her and kissed the top of it gently before letting himself out. Christine grinned. That guy had stepped straight out of the pages of a Jane Austen novel.

* * *

The time he spent in apartment 5b was a confusion to Erik. He felt… strange. He was not angry or distressed or unhappy. Barely once did a negative thought cross his mind. He was perfectly willing to talk, to eat, to drink, to accept the company of another person.

It didn't hit him until he had gotten home, late that night. He was content.

How odd. He hadn't felt content in quite some time. He pondered it as he wandered aimlessly around the apartment. For a moment he was still contemplating the reason why he should feel like this.

Erik's eyes slid to the door and imagined what lay beyond it. The hallway, a second door, an apartment and a young woman who had somehow managed to make him feel content.

It had been so long since he had talked to someone for so long, not related to work. He had a debt of gratitude to Christine Daae. Perhaps one day he could repay it. He considered the monkey box, with the little description card beside it. It was a strange gift, yet he appreciated it all the more because of its lack of conventionality.

He wound up the key and listened to the tune, the tiny _ching_ of the monkey's cymbals adding a charming oddness to the song. As the music played, an idea twisted itself around his mind.

* * *

On Boxing Day Christine decided to go for a walk. Snow had still not fallen and the apartment was stuffy and overheated. A brisk walk in the cold air was just what she needed.

When she returned she found a small parcel outside her door. She picked it up and read the note scrawled on top.

_Christine_

_Merry Christmas. I hope this doesn't depress you too much._

_Erik_

She smiled and unwrapped the package as she let herself into her apartment. A book fell out, a little tattered and clearly well-loved.

**Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience**

**By William Blake**

Christine laughed.

* * *

**A/N: Hooray! It's Christmastime and there's no need to be afraid, etc and all the jazz. Anyway, I quite liked this chapter too. Building up a friendship, keeping it all very platonic and a bit of Blake thrown in for good measure. I happen to be studying him at school and some of his poems are rather inspirational. That particular quote is from 'A Divine Image'.**

**Bad news – it may be a while before the next update. I have good reasons though! One – it's my birthday on Sunday. But since I'll be working all day, I'm going to be out tomorrow with my friends. And then on Tuesday my new story is going to start going up. Unfortunately, I have not finished the story, and I really need to for reasons that will become clear. **

**So, leave a review, leave a smile, take a cookie and have a great weekend.**

**Lotsa luv**

**Katie**


	10. The Madness Of The Mind

**The Girl Next Door**

"Christine, can I have a word?" Firmin said, stopping at her desk. It was the third of January and they were back at work. Christine looked up anxiously and he smiled. "Don't panic, it's nothing worry about. In my office, fifteen minutes."

He left and Meg's head appeared over the edge of the cubicle.

"What's that about?"

"I don't know." Christine said, a little worried.

"I'm sure everything's fine." Sorelli said, her face popping over the other wall to the cubicle. Christine nodded and swallowed.

"I don't… I can't think of anything that might be wrong."

"Chris, he said 'don't panic'. I'm going to take a crazy stab-in-the-dark here and say that you shouldn't panic." Meg told her firmly.

She smiled and nodded.

"Yes. OK, I'm relaxed. I'll just finish this and then… face the music."

"Good idea." Sorelli smiled. Carlotta waltzed past and paused.

"Oh Christine, is everything alright? What did Richard want?"

"I don't know." Christine said, keeping her eyes on the screen. Carlotta put on an expression of friendly concern.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. You do your best in everything and that should be enough. Well, I'd better go and see Thomas!"

She flounced away and Christine clenched a fist.

"I'm going to kill her. I am actually going to take this stapler and kill her."

"You can hide the body in the supply cupboard." Sorelli suggested brightly. Christine smiled and Meg put in,

"Or put it through the shredder!"

By the time she had finished her work and had to see Firmin, Christine had cheered up considerably. She knocked on the office door and went in. He was on the phone and signalled for her to sit.

"Yes, I understand that. It's not a problem." He said. "I'll fax through details right away. Goodbye." He put the phone down and looked across at her.

"Good lord, don't look so frightened." She smiled faintly.

"I'm fine. So… what did you want to talk to me about?"

"How long have you been working here, Christine?" Firmin asked, lacing his fingers and looking over the top of his hands at her. Christine thought about it.

"Well… two and a half years?"

"Hmm."

He was silent for a moment and then said,

"You studied graphic design at college?"

"Yes."

"I thought so." He was silent again before continuing. "Christine, I have been very impressed with your work here, especially since it's your first job. But I don't feel that I'm giving you work that matches the quality that you're capable of."

Christine said nothing, watching him and wondering frantically where he was going with this.

"I want to promote you, Christine. Scott, the head of the graphics department, is moving to London and I need someone capable to take the job. It's not a big department, only a dozen people, and there's a pay rise involved but it's a hard job. I think you can handle it though."

Christine's jaw had dropped from the word 'promote'. She shut it, blinked and opened her mouth to speak.

"Richard… are you sure that I can do this?"

"I am, otherwise I wouldn't be suggesting it." Firmin said firmly. "I can give you some time to decide if you wish-"

"No! No, I'll take it!" Christine said hurriedly. "But… I want to keep working on the Hawthorn projects. If that's OK."

"No one else could. Mr Destler informed us right near the beginning of the project that he didn't want anyone else working on it."

"He did?" Christine said in astonishment. Firmin smiled.

"He did. Now, I'll have a contract drawn up, we can go over it and have you reinstated on Monday morning."

"Thank you so much, Richard."

"You're welcome. Get back to work." He said with a fond smile.

Meg and Sorelli were waiting at her desk for news. Christine spied Carlotta hovering a little way off, taking a drink from the water machine. She smirked and Meg said,

"So… what happened?"

"What happened is that I just got promoted." Christine said, beaming. Meg and Sorelli squealed and hugged her tightly. Christine smiled and caught Carlotta's eye. She did not look impressed. Christine smiled sweetly.

"You were right, Carlotta. I _did_ do my best and it _was_ enough."

Carlotta gave a simpering, incredibly false smile and left. Christine smiled. She couldn't remember the last time she had been walking on air.

* * *

Stuart was working late that day, so Christine arranged to meet him at her apartment for dinner. She whistled cheerfully in the elevator and strode down the hallway, smiling to herself.

"You're in a good mood." Erik's voice floated down the corridor. Christine smiled as he came out of his apartment.

"I got promoted!"

"Congratulations." He said warmly. Christine beamed at him.

"And Firmin told me that you wanted to keep me on the Hawthorn projects. Thank you."

"You have extraordinary insight to what is required for the work." Erik said calmly. "I don't accept anything less than perfection and perfection is what you produce."

Christine glowed at the compliment as he went to the elevator. She unlocked her door and dropped her keys onto the coffee table, taking her shoes off and rubbing at her aching feet as she switched the radio on. The temptation of a cup of tea persuaded her to go into the kitchen and switch the kettle on. She had almost finished the _Il Muto_ work, but she wanted to go back over a few details. With a steaming cup of tea in one hand, she opened the folder and spread the prints over the table, scanning them over the rim of the cup.

She made detailed notes on a notepad, pouring over each piece of art until she was certain that every inch had been examined. In fact, Christine was so absorbed that she didn't even notice how much time had passed until the buzzer startled her out of her auto-pilot. She let Stuart in and started to clear away the work on the table. When he arrived, she was still putting things back in folders.

"You really do live for your job, don't you?" He teased. Christine laughed.

"I just got so into it."

"So much so that you forgot dinner, didn't you?"

"You know me so well."

"Which is why I picked up food." Stuart said, holding up a bag that was letting out delicious wafts of food. Christine smiled.

"You're wonderful.

"So I've been told." He said, going into the kitchen to collect plates as Christine finished tidying her things away.

With relaxing music playing in the background, Christine and Stuart discussed their separate days, the biggest news being Christine's promotion.

"I don't know why you're surprised. You're fantastic at what you do." Stuart said simply, putting his plate down. Christine wiped her mouth and put hers next to it.

"That was great. I was starving."

"I don't know where you put it, you're so thin." Stuart said, poking her stomach. Christine swiped at his hand.

"Stop that!"

"Why?"

"It tickles." She said and almost instantly regretted it. Stuart grinned devilishly and pounced on her. Christine shrieked, feeling half embarrassed by their childishness and half-delighted at the waterfall of emotions that escaped her. Stuart grinned down at her and said,

"You've gone all pink."

She mock-scowled and then dug her fingers into his ribs. He gasped and his arms gave out, so he collapsed half on top of her. They lay on the sofa, recovering from the attacks until Stuart lifted his head to look at her.

All sense of childishness disappeared instantly. Christine knew from the look in his eyes that this wasn't a silly game as he lowered his mouth to hers. She responded willingly, his arms twining around her, pulling her closer and she lifted her hands to run through his hair. She knew what he wanted.

But she couldn't give it to him.

She broke the kiss and he looked at her, almost startled at the abrupt end to their activities. But he did not release his hold on her.

"Stuart, stop…" She whispered, her head bowed so her eyes were hidden behind a mane of dark curls. She could just picture the puzzled look on his face, the crease between the well-defined eyebrows, the confusion in his dark eyes.

"Christine?" He lifted her face so he could see her properly. "What's wrong?"

She pushed herself up on her elbows, forcing him to sit up. After a moment she looked at him, feeling like the worst person on earth.

"Stuart, I can't do this. Not yet. It's…" She took a breath. "Do you remember the first time we kissed?"

"Of course."

"I said that I was moving on and you said that he must have hurt me." She said slowly, trying to figure out a way of explaining it. "I… there is a _lot_ of emotional baggage here that I haven't gotten rid off. I want to be free of it but what happened was so… so much to take that I can't forget it all at once. Oh God, I'm not explaining this well…"

"No." He took her hands. "No, its… its fine."

"Stuart-"

"It's fine." He insisted. "We can wait until you feel ready. I'm not going to push you."

"I _want_ to but-"

"Stop talking." Stuart said insistently. "You're just making yourself feel worse."

They were silent for a moment and Stuart said,

"I should go."

"No. Please… stay. I mean, you can stay but-" She tried to explain but the words were sticking in her throat. Stuart clearly understood what she meant and seemed to internally debate it for a few minute.

"I'll stay. If you're OK with it."

"Yes. I want you to stay." She said in a voice that was firmer than she felt.

* * *

"I noticed Mr Wilkins leaving this morning." Erik said the next morning as they stood in the hallway for their usual pre-work chat. Stuart had left about an hour previously to go home and change before work. Christine winced.

"Yes… yeah."

"And you don't seem too happy about it."

"How observant you are." Christine muttered. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"Are you going to explain your mood or should I develop my psychic powers?"

Christine smiled as she pressed the button to call the elevator to their floor.

"I… OK, for a start, nothing happened. We just slept. But… well _he_ wanted to do more and I-"

"Didn't?"

"No, I did. But I couldn't." She said. "I'm just not over what it was that got me last time."

The doors opened and they both stepped inside. Erik pushed the ground floor button and as the doors closed he said,

"I am probably not one to be handing out advice regarding love lives but if you can't…" He hesitated before skipping to the next part. "Perhaps it's because you don't really want to."

"But I do. Why can't I just get over it?"

"Because you're not ready."

"Well, I should be." She said in a rather sulky tone. "It's been ages. I should be over it."

As they moved into the street where they separated, Erik looked at her.

"Perhaps you should simply take your time over it. There is no use in rushing into uncertainties. No good ever came of that." He considered her. "If you wish to, come to the Hawthorn after work today. We're rehearsing late and perhaps you'd like to see a little of it. If nothing else, it may improve your mood."

"Really? Can I?" Christine said, her mood already greatly improved.

"Of course."

He paused.

"How do you feel about Mr Wilkins?"

"Well, I love him. I really do." Christine said. Erik looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes, as though he were seeing something that wasn't quite clear.

"And now you have to ask yourself who you are really trying to convince when you say that. I'll see you this afternoon."

And he was gone.

* * *

Christine spent most of the day pondering Stuart and Erik's parting words. She couldn't deny that she'd woken that morning feeling extremely comfortable, Stuart's arm draped over her and his face buried in her hair. It had been nice to know that someone wanted to be that close to her.

That she could be so close to someone again.

But it wasn't close enough, she knew. It was so clear that Stuart wanted to take it further. And it wasn't that she didn't _want_ to. She just couldn't.

She didn't want to get hurt again. It just took too much to recover from pain like that.

"Christine?"

She looked up and saw Meg looking at her worriedly over the cubicle wall.

"You OK? You've been staring at the wall for the past ten minutes."

"I'm fine." Christine said, standing to fetch a cup of coffee.

"Last day with us little people." Sorelli sighed. "She's moving to a higher plane. Going to forget all about us."

"I'm moving across the office. And I'll probably still be able to _hear_ you if nothing else." Christine pointed out. Firmin had dropped the contract off to her that morning and she'd already signed it. "In fact, I'll go and give the contract to him now."

"And off she goes." Meg said glumly. Christine rolled her eyes at their ridiculousness. Still, it was comforting to know that they cared.

She knocked on Firmin's door and he called "Come in." She opened the door and found him sat with Carlotta, talking avidly. Carlotta cast her a disdainful look, as though they had been discussing something of the greatest importance. The cups of coffee and muffins removed any sign that they had been.

"Just delivering this." Christine said. Firmin beamed at her.

"Excellent! You can start first thing on Monday."

"Brilliant." Christine said warmly. "I'll just go and finish the _Il Muto_ stuff. It's very nearly completed."

"Very good. Drop it in when it's done and I'll send it to the theatre."

"Thanks Richard."

* * *

Erik watched with a critical eye as the performers did the final scene of _Il Muto_. The music came to a triumphant finish and they all gathered to wait for his verdict. After several moments of contemplative silence he said,

"It was bearable, I suppose."

Disappointment went through the crowd and they all muttered.

"The orchestra are overbearing, the acting is wooden and the singing is only slightly less than painful." Erik said, getting to his feet, his authoritative voice ringing around the room. "I want act one again, _now_. And if you'd care to put a little emotion into it, please do!"

He went to the back of the room to fetch a drink. Nadir joined him.

"Aren't you being a little harsh?"

"Most certainly not. True, they weren't as bad as I just stated but if I give them praise it goes straight to their heads and they don't even try." Erik said irritably. Nadir smiled slightly.

"I underestimate you, my friend."

Nadir Khan was, in short, a good man. The world boasted many men who claimed to have that quality, but Nadir was one of the few genuine ones. Although his demeanour was generally solemn and silent, there was a gentleness to his manner that Erik admired simply for his own lack of it. Nadir was solid, kind, good and firm. A rock, Erik supposed. He didn't much care for the biblical reference, but Nadir was his rock.

As the music began again, they returned to the front of the room, sitting to watch the opera being performed. The cast seemed to be putting far more effort into it this time. It was actually very good, he knew. But he would still not let the cast know.

He stopped them halfway through a song to move a set of dancers further back on the stage and to pull the lead forward, rearranging her stance before letting them continue. Almost completely satisfied this time, he regarded them in silence before saying.

"Very well. You may leave." Taking this to mean he was happy with the work, the cast all dashed to the doors. Erik watched them go in a mixture of entertainment and despair when his eyes fell upon a figure sat in the last row of seats.

Christine Daae saw him and stood, leaving her bag and coat on the chair. She moved down the aisle and smiled at him.

"That was wonderful."

"How long were you watching for?"

"About fifteen minutes. You were busy and I didn't want to disturb you." She gestured to the stage and smiled. "The music was lovely."

"Thank you." He moved towards the stage and she followed him, helping him to collect copies of the score that had been left there. "It is coming along well."

"How long is it running for?"

"Eight weeks."

"And after that?" He paused and looked at her. She was watching him, genuinely curious.

"I have several other pieces that can be performed."

"What about that one you were writing? I saw it when I borrowed the violin bow."

It took him a moment to realise which piece she was referring to.

"That particular opera is… different." He said. Christine frowned and he tried to explain. "You are a skilled artist. Do you draw for pleasure?"

"Sometimes."

"Have you ever drawn something simply because it will kill you not to? And when it was finished you had to hide it away because you are too proud to admit that you were forced to create something that way?"

Christine stared at him. Erik sighed gently.

"No. I suppose you haven't."

"I have." She said quietly. "I didn't know that it was something that others could experience too."

"Madness is not confined to a single person."

There was a meaningful silence. And in some ways that spoke louder than any words could have done. It was broken by Nadir entering. He looked at Christine in surprise but didn't comment.

"Erik, I need to discuss something with you briefly. It won't take a moment."

"Of course. Excuse me, Christine." With a curious glance at her, Nadir left, followed by Erik. Christine continued to pick up the books, placing them neatly on the edge of the stage before looking over her shoulder, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl as she opened one of them.

She scanned the notes and lyrics, reading hungrily. There was something wonderfully satisfying about reading music, imagining how it would sound. The particular song she had opened at was called '_Poor Fool/He Makes Me Laugh_.' Christine smiled as she read the lyrics before flicking random pages. They fell open on another song, a ballad of sorts. She continued to read and began to hum, reading the notes.

"Enjoying it?"

Christine gasped, jumped and dropped the book. Erik lifted an eyebrow, clearly entertained.

"You know, its good manners to warn someone that you're sneaking up on them." Christine said haughtily, trying to cover her embarrassment.

"Then surely it wouldn't be sneaking. And I wasn't sneaking anyway, I was walking."

"You were _sneaking_." Christine insisted. Erik lifted his eyes to the heavens, as though praying for strength.

"Fine. I was… _sneaking_. Shall we leave?"

* * *

As they wandered along the corridor of floor 5, Christine said,

"What day does _Il Muto _open?"

"The fifth of next month. Why?"

"Well, I need to get a ticket, don't I?" She smiled. "I'm not going to work this hard and then not see the thing."

"I shall have a ticket reserved. Would you prefer two?" He asked delicately. Christine paused.

"…Yes. Yes, go for two. Even if Stuart doesn't want to go, I'll find someone to come with me."

"I'll inform the office tomorrow."

"Wonderful, I'll get in some time next week to pay." Christine said, digging for her key in her bag. Erik shook his head.

"Consider them a gift."

"Erik, the company _pays_ me to do the advertising. You don't need to-"

"They're not for that." Erik interrupted. "They are a gift from one friend to another and I believe that such a thing needs no explanation. Goodnight, Christine."

He disappeared and Christine gaped at the door before smiling as she unlocked her own door. There was something remarkably unusual about that man.

**A/N: Wow, I didn't think I'd get this chapter finished today! But I just got into a writing mood and here it is. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Love**

**Katie**


	11. Emotional Sounds

**The Girl Next Door**

Stuart stared at Christine across the table in the pub.

"An opera?"

"Yeah. I know you're not really into that sort of thing, but it's really good." Christine said. She was pretty sure she could persuade him to go. She was in _advertising_, for crying out loud.

"Christine, I don't know anything _about_ opera."

"Then this is your chance to learn. I'm telling you, this is an amazing cultural experience that you don't want to miss. Do you know how hard it is to get tickets to an opening night? And these are fantastic seats as well. It's a perfect opportunity."

He was weakening. She could tell. A sweet smile crossed her lips.

"Please, Stuart? I really want to share this with you…"

"…OK." He said. Christine grinned.

"You won't regret this!"

"No, but you might." He warned. "My boss is having some big party thing. He's invited everyone in the company. Formal wear, next Friday night and you're coming."

"That seems fair." Christine agreed.

"Great. Now, what do you want to drink?"

* * *

"Champagne!" Firmin announced to the office on Friday afternoon. Several people cheered and Sorelli smiled brightly.

"What's the occasion?"

"The Hawthorn Theatre sent several bottles to thank us for completing the _Il Muto_ project." Firmin said. Christine smiled.

"That's generous."

"_Extremely _generous. My Destler sent his regards, particularly to you, Christine." He winked at her and Christine rolled her eyes. Meg whistled.

"Whoa, go Christine!"

"Oh, please. He's my neighbour and friend; he's only doing this to embarrass me." Christine insisted, using a stapler. Firmin poured her a glass of champagne.

"Well, thank him next time you see him."

"Of course." She said, accepting the glass. "I'll have this later; I want to finish packing my things."

Carlotta took a glass too.

"What a wonderful vintage. Father and I drank this at a dinner party last week." She said. Firmin smiled jovially.

"You'll have to excuse us less extravagant people. We don't drink like this every day."

"No, we're too busy earning a living." Christine muttered. Carlotta looked at her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, nothing. Just ignore me." Christine said pleasantly, putting things into a box. Firmin wasn't listening and Carlotta said snidely,

"Believe me, I'm trying."

"I couldn't possibly disagree. You are _very_ trying." Christine replied, walking past to the printer. Carlotta glared after her, her grip tightening on the champagne glass.

* * *

"You are such a show off!" Christine said, appearing by the elevator. Erik looked down at her, momentarily surprised.

"I'm sorry?"

"Sending fancy champagne." She shook her head, smiling. "You're not getting a discount from the company, if that's what you were thinking!"

"Oh, damn. You caught me in my cunning plan." He said dryly. The doors slid open and they stepped inside. Christine smiled at his sarcastic humour.

"It was a little much, don't you think?"

"I shall consider that opinion next time I decide to congratulate you on your work."

"Erik, you _know_ I didn't mean it like that!"

A tiny smirk crossed his lips and Christine shook her head despairingly.

"I never know what to say around you! You always manage to twist it back on me."

"You set yourself up so beautifully for it though." They arrived at their floor and Christine looked up at him.

"Want to come in for coffee?"

"I don't-"

"It's Friday afternoon. You have the whole weekend to be reclusive, come and be sociable." He gave a nod and said,

"I'll put my things away and be over in a few minutes."

"Great."

She put the kettle on and quickly changed out of her work clothes. When Erik arrived she was opening her post, having picked it up from her box on the way in. They went into the kitchen, where she scanned the letter.

"Bill. How exciting." She muttered, pushing it under a paperweight before reaching for the second letter. Erik watched as her face flickered from expression to expression.

"Is everything alright?"

"Hmm. Just my solicitor." Christine said. "Isn't that depressing? Two letters and they're both formal."

"Not as depressing as getting no post at all."

"Good point."

She poured them both coffee and they went into the living room. The conversation immediately went to the opening of _Il Muto_, which was in a little over three weeks.

"I absolutely can't wait. I persuaded Stuart to come along, which was quite an achievement."

"He is not a fan of the opera?"

"Not particularly. But he agreed to go if I go to some work thing with him next Friday." Christine said, sipping at her coffee. Erik did not appear to be so impressed.

"Why force him to go if he doesn't want to?"

"Because he's my boyfriend and we should take an interest in each other's interests." Christine said firmly. "Besides, I'm sure he'll enjoy it once he's there. It's probably just the prospect of it he doesn't like."

She noticed his expression and smiled.

"Hey, not everyone can be as cultured as you."

"I don't claim to be cultured."

"No, but you are." She shifted her position so her feet were tucked under her. Erik went to the piano and sat, his hands wandering over the keys, caressing them. They often did this, talking whilst he played, although sometimes they simply sat in silence, listening to the striking music that he created. Christine became lost in a world of her own when she listened to him. There was something in the music that struck a chord within her. A bittersweet loneliness beneath the general sound of the song.

"Why are you so sad?"

He looked at her and his fingers paused, allowing the song to fade into silence.

"What?"

She hadn't realised that she'd said it out loud. A little embarrassed, she sat up straight, twisting her fingers.

"I… I don't know. I didn't mean to say that."

"Why did you?"

"I thought… this sounds stupid… I was just thinking about the music and when you play you seem… sad. Like you're trying to cover it up by playing something happy but…" She stopped, feeling awkward. Erik was frowning slightly and she felt blood rush to her cheeks. "I didn't mean to say it, it just came out."

"No. No, it's fine." He examined her face. "Very… perceptive of you."

"Are you going to answer the question?" She asked.

He lifted his hands from the piano.

"No."

"…OK." Christine said, having already guessed that would be his answer. Wanting to change the subjects, she went to stand by the piano. "I wish I could play as well as you."

"I get a lot more practice. And your hands are too small." He said, glancing at them. Christine looked at her hands. True, they were rather small. But she could still _play_.

"You look offended." Erik commented.

"I am. I can still play, even with little hands!"

"Yes, but the best players tend to have larger hands."

"Well, let's see yours then."

Obligingly, he held them up. Christine examined them. They were much bigger than hers, with long, graceful fingers. The thought of them flying elegantly over the keys was a beautiful one.

"I suppose it does make it easier to reach the keys." She admitted. Erik nodded.

"It does."

"Play something else?" He began to play Chopin. Christine leant on the piano lid, listening pleasurably. Erik watched her, rather curious as her eyes slid closed and a slight smile spread across her lips. He had rarely seen someone else who lost themselves so easily within a tune as he himself did. But she did, apparently.

"You sing?"

"Hmm?" Her eyes opened again. It was apparently a day for slippery words, for Erik hadn't intended to speak aloud.

"You mentioned once that you sing."

"Oh… I used to. I haven't in a long time." She said, rubbing at a dirt mark on the top of the piano until the spot gleamed along with the rest of the instrument.

"Why not?"

"Things got in the way. I just didn't have time for it anymore. I had university and… other things."

He sensed the reluctance to discuss said 'things' and decided not to question her further on them. Instead he asked,

"But you kept up playing the piano."

"Singing takes a lot more effort than playing the piano. Anyway, it's not as if anyone ever heard me sing, so no one really missed it."

"Why not?"

"Embarrassing story. I auditioned for the school musical and messed up. _Badly_. I just never…" She shrugged. "It was horrible. I sang so badly. I was nervous and everything went wrong and I just ran out without finishing the song."

"Which song was it?"

"_Tonight_ from West Side Story." She laughed, but he sensed a sort of regret beneath the joviality of her tone. "Oh, it was dreadful…"

He began to play the song and Christine looked at him sharply.

"Not funny."

"I'm not trying to be. I want to hear you sing."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a professional musician and I haven't sung in about four years."

"Then I ask you as a friend to sing."

Christine glared at him. How mean, to twist their newfound friendship around like that! Yet there was a knowing glint in his eyes. She sighed.

"I haven't warmed up."

"Then do so." He led her through a basic warm up. She was clearly reluctant but Erik had never been anything if not stubborn. Once he felt she was capable of completing at least a few lines of the song, he began to play again. Christine squeezed her eyes shut.

**_Tonight_**

**_Tonight_**

**_It all began tonight_**

**_I saw you and the world went away_**

"Stop." He ordered. Christine glared at him.

"See? I told you it would be bad."

"It wasn't… bad. But you're not putting any effort into it." It was true. Even in those few lines he could recognise the talent that she must once have had. But it was rusty and poor now.

"Because I don't want to do it!"

He ignored her, standing and walking over to her. She folded her arms across her chest and he suddenly became very aware of how short she was. Not ridiculously so, but probably several inches below the average height. _Petite_, he decided was the best word. He unfolded her arms, placing them in a relaxed position and pressed a hand into her lower back, forcing her to stand straight.

"Lift your chin and breathe from here." He said, brushing his hand across the space between her ribs and her stomach. Christine looked resigned and he returned to the piano and began again. It was notably improved but lacked… _passion_.

Erik stood again and moved over to stand behind her. She was staring at the piano lid, pointedly ignoring him.

"Christine… you used to love music, didn't you?"

"I used to."

"Why?"

"Because… I could do it. It was something I was good at it."

"You could still be good. You just need to remember why you loved it so much." He said, talking quietly. Christine closed her eyes, resigned and unhappy.

"I can't."

"You _can_. Don't you remember, Christine? Don't you remember how it used to _feel_? If you loved music as much as you say you did then you must have known that feeling of power. Of freedom. Of knowing that you and you alone could bend the world, could grasp anything in the universe and twist it to your will and all because you could create something more beautiful than anything else in existence."

His voice had become, without his intention, low and almost seductive in tone.

"Don't you want to do that again?" He murmured. "Don't you want to sing again?"

There was a pause and then she made a tiny noise. Erik didn't know if it was of consent or rejection. It turned out to be neither because he saw a tear running down her cheek, quickly followed by another from the other eye. Frowning, he touched her shoulder tentatively and she shook out of her trance. Mortified, she wiped the drops from her face before swallowing hard.

"I… I think you'd better go." She whispered, her voice tight and pained. Erik stepped back at once.

"Christine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No… no, I just… please, just go." She said, bowing her head. He turned and walked out, feeling puzzled, angry at himself and, to his utter surprise, concerned.

Christine watched him go before glancing at the piano. Instead of the comfort that it had once offered her, it now seemed mocking and cruel. She went into the study, determined to forget the entire incident.

* * *

She spent Saturday morning wandering around the apartment, cleaning and tidying, although it wasn't really very messy. But she had nothing else to do. She had finished her work and had nothing else until Monday, when she began her new job.

By midday she felt insane. Stuart had already said that he'd be busy for most of the day, but was free to meet her in the evening. But she couldn't face another six hours of solitude. She called Meg but was met by the machine announcing that the occupant was not available. Christine put the phone down, cursing Meg for unconsciously abandoning to her fate of madness.

_You could always try playing music. Or better still, you could go and apologise to Erik for sending him away like that because you have irresolvable issues,_ a spiteful little voice in her mind hissed. Christine scowled.

She truly loathed and detested that voice.

* * *

Erik was scribbling away at a fresh piece of music when there was a tentative knock at his door. He immediately knew who it was, because he had not buzzed anyone in at the front door. He hesitated but knew that they would have to face each other eventually. He crossed to the door and opened it. Christine was standing in the hallway, wringing her hands nervously.

"Good afternoon." He said courteously, moving back to let in. She hovered in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to disturb you…"

"Not at all."

"I just wanted to… I don't know." She admitted, with a nervous laugh. It sounded a little shrill.

Erik watched her carefully as she composed herself. After a few moments she met his eyes.

"I want to apologise for yesterday. I shouldn't have told you to leave, it was rude."

"It was perfectly understandable."

"No. I was rude. I'm not sure why, I just… it made me feel a little emotional and you were the nearest target. It wasn't fair on you."

"Christine, you told me that you didn't want to sing and I should have listened. Forgive me; I can become a little irrational when it comes to music, especially when other people's feelings are involved."

They stood awkwardly in silence before Christine smiled.

"Listen to us, we're ridiculous!"

"I'll accept your apology if you accept mine." Erik offered. Christine nodded, with a smile.

"That seems fair." They shook hands and Erik said,

"Would you care for some tea or coffee?"

"Tea would be great."

Whilst the kettle boiled, Erik put his work away. Christine was admiring a painting on the wall.

"Who did this? It's beautiful." She asked. Erik glanced at the picture. It was of a scarlet rose lying on piano keys and was so perfectly drawn it could have been a photograph.

Erik closed his eyes…

* * *

"_What do you think?" She said, holding the dripping paintbrush up. Erik peered over her shoulder._

"_It's… what is it?"_

"_Erik, don't tease! You know perfectly well what it is!" She scolded him. Erik smiled._

"_It's beautiful, of course. You couldn't produce anything that wasn't."_

"_I'll have to do a terrible one now, just to prove you wrong." She said absently, dabbing a little more paint onto the canvas._

_

* * *

_

"I don't know. I found it in a shop and it appealed." He lied. Christine nodded.

"I'll have to see if I can get hold of a copy, it's wonderful." She turned to look at him and smiled briefly. He went to make tea, feeling rather unsettled.

As they drank, Erik said,

"If you don't mind me saying so, you didn't sing badly last night."

"Oh?"

"Your voice is… rough around the edges. But you could probably sing very well if you practised."

"I don't have the time or money to take private lessons." Christine said. "Besides, what's the point if no one would ever hear me?"

"The point would be that you're not letting what is a potentially beautiful instrument go to waste." Erik said firmly. "I will give you a few voice lessons, if you would care to have them. And there would be no charge either."

"You are opening an opera in three weeks; you don't have time to mess around with me." Christine pointed out.

"I shall make time. It can be something to distract me from work."

"You're going to use music to distract you from music?" Christine said critically.

"Yes."

"…You're an odd man."

"It's been said before and will be said again." Erik said indifferently.

Christine looked at him in disbelief before sipping her tea, mulling the idea over. After a few moments of contemplative silence she looked at him.

"We'll try it for one lesson. Once you realise that I'm a lost cause, you'll regret the whole idea."

"You, Christine, are anything but a lost cause." Erik said smoothly.

Christine was beginning to regret the idea already.

* * *

Stuart arrived at about seven thirty. By this time, Christine was back in her apartment and sorting out something to wear for dinner, since they'd agreed to go out somewhere.

"How was your day?" She asked as she brushed her hair. Stuart grinned.

"Better for seeing you at the end of it."

"Don't be such a suck up."

"It was fine. Rather dull but you know. Conferences are never thrilling. What about you?"

For the briefest of moments Christine considered telling him that she would be spending Monday night in Erik Destler's apartment, having a singing lesson. But part of her felt that these two things, Stuart and her music, or even Stuart and Erik, belonged to different parts of her life.

"Oh, not much. Come on, I'm starving." She said, linking an arm through his and switching the light off.


	12. In A Different Light

**The Girl Next Door**

Christine looked around her new office and smiled happily. No more cubicles for her. She got a _proper_ office. With windows and a door and everything.

She sat behind her desk, admiring her newly unpacked things. There was a knock at the door and she called, feeling rather proud, "Come in!"

Sorelli and Meg poked their heads around the door.

"Wow!"

"This is _so_ unfair!" Christine grinned at them.

"Isn't it amazing?"

"I've got to get a promotion. C'mon, Christine, share the secret. What did you do to get Firmin to promote you?" Sorelli asked.

"She didn't spend all her time gossiping and running around other people's offices, like you two." Firmin said, appearing in the doorway. "Get back to work."

"See you later, Christine." They disappeared and Firmin smiled at Christine, settling into the chair opposite her desk.

"Do you like it?"

"It's brilliant. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to repay you for this." Christine said.

"Do a good job. That's all I ask of you." Firmin said solemnly. "For the moment I'm not going to give you a project, since you'll be editing and authorising the rest of the department. But I've already assured the Hawthorn Theatre that you'll be available for them."

"No problem. I'm ready for this." Christine said firmly.

* * *

"I am _not_ ready for this." Christine said firmly. Erik's mouth quirked into a smile.

"Then we should begin quickly so you don't back out entirely."

She groaned and moved inside his apartment. He closed the door and led her to the piano.

"A warm up first, and then I've chosen a song for you to do."

"Lovely."

"I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about this." Erik said cynically.

"I'm not really enthusiastic about being your pet project."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm doing you a favour."

"So _you_ say." Christine muttered.

She stood in the curve of the piano and sang the warm up. More out of curiosity than anything, Erik began to press higher notes, wanting to see exactly how high her voice could go. She stopped eventually.

"I can't do that. Not anymore. I used to be able to."

"We'll get you there." He said confidently, handing her the sheet music. She examined it briefly.

"I don't know this song." She said instantly.

"Yes, you do."

"Erik, I know when I don't know a song and I don't know this song." Christine said stubbornly. Erik looked at her flatly over the top of the music.

"It's _Tonight_. Now stop being so awkward. You're not getting out of this."

Christine pouted and Erik played the beginning of the song. Christine began to sing but Erik stopped her almost immediately.

"Don't you remember what I told you about breathing?"

"Do it?"

"Christine…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Couldn't resist." She took a deep breath. "Try again, I'll do it properly."

Erik played right to the end of the song. To her credit, Christine really did seem to be trying her best. But there was something not quite right.

"Do you not like this song?" He asked.

"Not really. It's a bit…" She wrinkled her nose. Erik considered her closely.

"Very well. I'll find something else for next time."

"There's a next time?"

"Yes. Tomorrow, same time." Erik said, putting the music away. Christine nodded and looked at her watch.

"OK. I'll bring us something to eat tomorrow though, I'm starving."

"You needn't-"

"You're giving me free lessons. This is my way of saying thank you. Goodnight Erik."

* * *

On her return to Erik's apartment the next day, Christine was surprised to hear him on the phone. He just didn't seem to be the sort of person who would stay on the telephone for longer than was absolutely necessary. The door was left open and she entered. Erik nodded to her, continuing his conversation.

"I don't give a damn, Nadir. She is in a contract and she _will_ be singing. Remind her of that and threaten to call the legal department. Just make sure that she's at the rehearsal tomorrow." He hung up.

"Everything alright?" Christine asked.

"Eleanor is being unnecessarily dramatic. She plays the countess." Erik said, moving to the piano and sitting down. "She seems to think that she is the only actress in the whole damn theatre."

"A Prima Donna?"

"Exactly." Erik said. He pulled out a new piece of music and pushed it towards her. "Warm up and we'll start on this."

Christine read the music.

"Erik, I _really_ don't know this one."

"I know. I wrote it some time ago and edited it last night." Erik said. "It should suit your current level of ability before we move on to more challenging pieces."

The piece was called _The Angel of Music_.

"How did you come up with a title like that?" Christine asked curiously. Erik looked at her.

"I suggest you glance through the book I gave you for Christmas. There is a particular poem in there that inspired me."

"I loathe cryptic answers."

"Which is probably why I delight in giving them to you. Try the first three bars."

* * *

"_That's a pretty tune." She said dreamily, wrapping her arms about Erik's shoulders as he played. He glanced up at her._

"_You like it?"_

"_Yes, what is it?"_

"_A new piece. _The Angel of Music."

"_How very like you, Erik." She commented, sitting down with her back to the piano so she was looking into his face._

_Erik smiled gently at her._

"_I am no Angel."_

"_You're not a conventional Angel. You're far more special than that." She said firmly. "You're _my _Angel."_

"_You require an Angel?"_

"_No. But you're already mine."_

_

* * *

_

Christine opened the book of Blake poetry and read the content list, trying to figure out which poem Erik had been referring to. After a moment her eyes fell upon a title.

**The Angel**

She quickly found the page and read the poem, twice since she had rushed it the first time. She could see at once what Erik had liked about the poem. It was a sad yet cynical piece, the loss of innocence combined with unfulfilled love.

**And I wept both night and day,**

**And he wiped my tears away,**

**And I wept both day and night,**

**And hid from him my heart's delight.**

Christine murmured the words aloud before closing the book, wondering exactly who it was who had hidden from Erik Destler.

* * *

Christine examined the mock-up poster that Jammes had given to her. It was for a new novel and she'd done a pretty good job. The young woman watched her rather nervously. Christine smiled.

"This is good."

"You think so? I was really nervous about showing you!"

"Don't be silly, I'm not here to make you feel bad." Christine smiled. She took a pencil and lightly marked the paper. "But, I think you should move this text down here. It's all a bit crowded near the top. And try making the font a size smaller. Go for the understated look."

They spent a good twenty minutes discussing the poster until both were satisfied. As Jammes went to make the changes, she glanced back at Christine with a quick smile.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Christine smiled back, warmth glowing inside of her. Jammes closed the door and Christine let out a giggle of excitement. Grinning at her own silliness, she turned to the computer screen, determined to get some work done.

At lunch time, Meg came in.

"Hey, Christine. A group of us are heading to the pub for lunch, you coming?"

"No, I've got a couple of things to do."

"Do them later. Come on, we haven't seen you all week." Meg pointed out. It was Friday and Christine had to admit that she had barely left her office at all.

"Give me two minutes to get my things." She said, saving her work.

* * *

_Hey Chrissie. I'm trapped in a meeting, but I'll pick you up at seven thirty, it starts at eight. See you then. Love you!_

Christine glanced at her watch. It was already a quarter past five. She sighed and went straight to the bathroom for a shower. Shampoo, condition, cleaning her face. She pulled on a towel and went to the wardrobe, cursing herself for not deciding on an outfit sooner.

After fifteen minutes, she still hadn't decided. Christine hovered for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. She reached for the phone and called Meg. But, as usual, she was out. Christine muttered under her breath about inconsiderate people who were never home when you needed them.

Then it struck her and she dialled a different number.

* * *

Erik reached for the ringing phone.

"Erik Destler speaking."

"Erik, I need your help."

"Christine?" He said, somewhat confused. "What's wrong?"

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not laughing." Erik said.

"Promise not to?" She said sternly. Erik rubbed his eyes in bewilderment.

"Fine, I promise. What's going on?"

"I'm going to that work-party of Stuart's tonight and I need a second opinion on my outfit."

Erik blinked. Christine carried on.

"My door is unlocked and there are two dresses on the bedroom door. Can you tell me which one you prefer? If you're not too busy?"

"No… no, I'll be right over." Erik said, highly amused by the whole incident. He sometimes forgot that Christine, among other things, was also a woman.

He crossed to her apartment and, sure enough, saw the two dresses hanging on the bedroom door. One was black velvet with red lace over the top and the other was a sheath of ivory coloured material. Erik looked from one to the other. He was usually drawn to darker colours himself, but had always appreciated beauty. And he knew that the lighter dress was the right one.

"The ivory one." He called. Instantly a hand appeared around the edge of the door and seized the pale dress, tugging it into the room beyond.

"Thanks Erik! There's coffee in the kitchen, help yourself. I'll be right out." She called.

Erik poured himself coffee and returned to the living room. But apparently when Christine had said 'I'll be right out' what she had actually meant was 'I'm going to be a while, make yourself comfy'.

Christine was, in fact, trying to make herself look presentable as someone who would be attending a formal event. She rarely had the opportunity to look so dressed up and had underestimated how much time it would actually take her. Once the dress was on, she realised that she hadn't picked out shoes. When she'd done this, she realised that her hair was drying into a state that can only be described as that of a mad scientist. Once she had managed to calm it down and style it, she remembered that she had to put on her make up.

A layer of foundation, some eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. Damn, jewellery! Christine groaned and reached for the box. The charm bracelet seemed too informal, so she swapped it for a silver chain. A diamond pendant around her neck, some earrings and Christine looked in the mirror.

Not bad, she thought. She traced the faint scar on her right cheek. She had hoped that the foundation would have disguised it, but no such luck. Christine wasn't, as a rule, particularly vain but she still hated the scar. She cast the thought aside and left the bedroom.

* * *

Erik had, by this time, moved to the piano, where he was playing a song that Christine didn't know. He looked up as she came out and for a moment she was positive that his eyes widened.

She hadn't been mistaken. Erik had never seen this side of her. The thought occurred to him again – Christine was a woman. And that point was becoming very obvious to him now. He knew instantly that he had chosen the right dress. The beautiful dress made her skin seem even paler than usual, almost ethereally so. In complete contrast, her chocolate curls became darker still, tumbling around her face, her eyes gleaming against the creamy skin. Her lips were pale pink, the only true colour in her face. Erik's eyes rested briefly on the scar on her cheek.

But even that was beautiful. It added an unusualness to her, making her a cut above the average woman dressed up to go to a party.

"Sorry I took so long." She said, apparently not noticing that he hadn't yet spoken. "I didn't realise how much I had to do."

"If it helps, it has certainly paid off. You look radiant." Erik offered. Christine smiled at him.

"That does help, actually. I've got a bag somewhere…" She went to a drawer and opened it, searching around inside for the elusive bag. "Here it is. God, is that the time already?"

As if to prove that it certainly was that time already, the buzzer went. Christine let Stuart in and then turned to Erik.

"So… it looks OK?"

"It's perfect." He assured her. Christine smiled in relief.

"Good. I'm actually nervous. It's so ridiculous."

"Nonsense. You'll be fine." Erik promised.

There was a knock at the door and Stuart came in. His eyes fell upon Christine and he let out a long whistle.

"Now _that_ is a sight for sore eyes."

"Hi Stuart." Christine smiled. He grinned at her and then noticed Erik.

"Hey, you're Chrissie's neighbour, aren't you?"

_Chrissie?_ The thought crossed Erik's mind without meaning to.

"I am."

"Erik was helping me decide on what to wear."

"Then I'll have to offer my thanks. You look gorgeous." Stuart said earnestly. Christine felt herself flushing.

"OK, you both have to stop with the compliments or I'll end up looking like a tomato."

"But a very attractive tomato nonetheless." Erik said. Christine laughed and he said, "I shall be on my way. Enjoy your evening."

"Thanks again, Erik. I owe you." Christine smiled again and Erik nodded, crossing the hallway to his apartment.

Once the door was safely closed and he was within the privacy of his home, Erik allowed himself a deep sigh.

For the very briefest moment, he had looked at Christine in a way he should not have done. He had wanted what he could not have.

He had wanted _her_. He had wanted Christine in a way that was not platonic. Far from it in fact.

But, Erik rationalised, surely it would have been odd _not_ to have felt that way. Christine Daae was an extremely attractive woman. In fact, it was rather comforting to know that he was still able to feel such a basic human emotion as lust.

That didn't completely dispel the fact that he rather wished that it was his arm that Christine would be on that night. Upon realising this, Erik reached for a drink.

* * *

Christine hated to admit it, but she was rather enjoying the party. Several people had complimented her on her dress, Stuart beaming the whole time. His boss had even struck up a conversation with them.

"Stuart, good to see you. And who is this delightful young lady?"

"Mr Swanson, this is my girlfriend, Christine Daae." Stuart said proudly. Swanson shook her hand enthusiastically.

"A pleasure, Miss Daae. Ah, here's my own wife!"

A pleasant looking woman joined them and a conversation began.

"How long have you and Stuart been together?" Mrs Swanson asked. Christine considered in her mind.

"It must be nearly three months now." She said and Stuart nodded in agreement.

"Yes, that's about right."

"How lovely!" Mrs Swanson said with a gentle smile.

"Come dear, we must get socialising." Swanson said. The pair moved off and Stuart hugged Christine.

"You are _amazing_."

"And you are easily impressed." Christine laughed.

* * *

The evening passed by in a mixture of music and wine and laughter and dancing. When Stuart took her home, Christine was still smiling.

"That was fun."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Stuart grinned. He had already pulled off his stifling tie and Christine was rubbing at her bare feet as they pulled up outside Gaston Place. Stuart came around the side of the car and lifted Christine out of the car, her shoes dangling from hand. Christine laughed as he carried up the front steps, bending so she could put in the security code.

"You need to eat more, Chrissie, you hardly weight anything. I'll have to get Mum to feed you up a bit." He teased.

Stuart carried her all the way to the door of her apartment, into the apartment itself before finally putting her down on the sofa.

"There you are, your highness."

"I suppose that makes you a knight in shining armour?" She smiled. Stuart laughed.

"No armour, thanks. But if you've got any dragon problems, I'll be sure to slay them for you."

"My hero." She mocked. Stuart pulled her into a kiss. She put her arms around him and he said quietly,

"Does this mean that we get to live Happily Ever After?"

Christine looked at him, her heart sinking as she tried to figure out what he was saying.

"Stuart…"

"Don't look so scared. I'm not proposing or anything. I'm not going to demand anything from you. I just want to let you know that I love you and I'm always going to be here, for as long as you need me." He said, running his hands down her arms to clasp her hands. She looked at him sadly.

"I…"

Christine closed her eyes for a moment and then buried her face in his shoulder.

"I need you, Stuart. I do need you." She whispered. Stuart held her tightly, but his heart had tightened painfully.

"I'd better get going, it's late." He said after a few moments. Christine nodded mutely, wondering exactly what had happened to make their happiness fade into this painful awkwardness. She watched him walk down the hallway and saw the despondent look on his face as the elevator doors closed.

She buried her face in her hands, willing herself not to cry. But she couldn't stop the tears and she stood for a few moments, letting them fall.

"Christine?"

She looked up sharply and saw Erik stood in the doorway opposite, watching her with concern. She swallowed hard and forced a smile onto her face.

"Did I disturb you?"

"No, I was still awake." He said. Christine nodded mutely, biting down on her lip to prevent it wobbling. Erik frowned and awkwardly stepped forward, unsure of what to do. Christine shook her head, not to say no but as a simple gesture of helplessness.

"Why can't I love him, Erik?" She cried suddenly, pain and anguish filling every syllable. "Why can't I love him!"

"Because he's not the person you're meant to be with."

The words had slipped from his mouth before he could stop them and he cursed them immediately. Christine's dark eyes instantly went to his emerald ones. Erik didn't know how to react. Luckily he didn't have to.

"Goodnight Erik." She said in a quiet but firm voice. She turned and closed the door behind her. Erik closed his own door and pressed his forehead against the wood, damning himself for being so idiotic.

What had made him say that? He knew how it had sounded. He knew why Christine had reacted like that. But he didn't know why he'd said it. He barely knew Christine Daae, he was perfectly aware of the fact. And he most certainly did not feel for her in a romantic way.

One too many drinks, combined with the yearning he had felt earlier on, he decided. He only hoped that it was not too late to repair the damage already done to their friendship.

**A/N: I hate hate HATE stories where Erik sees Christine in a fancy dress and suddenly realises 'OMG, so sexy, luff her.' So please don't think that it's going to head that way straight off, OK? **

**The Angel by Blake is a beautiful poem. I read it a while ago and really wanted to get it in somehow. That's why I brought the book in on the Christmas chapter. I highly recommend it.**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews - please leave more!**

**Love**

**Katie **


	13. During The Night

**The Girl Next Door**

She came to see him the next day. He opened the door and found her dressed more like the usual Christine, a jumper, jeans and her hair in a messy knot, carrying a tin under one arm.

"Good morning, Erik."

"Christine… I was going to come and see you today." He let her in. "I wanted to apologise for last night. I was out of line."

"You were a bit." She said breezily.

Erik struggled to explain.

"I was-"

"Erik, its fine." She insisted. "After listening to me go on about Stuart so many times, you only said it to shut me up. And I don't really blame you. It's probably very irritating, having to put up with my moaning all the time."

He looked at her. So… she _hadn't_ taken it in the way he had expected her to. That was some comfort. But it was also, for some unknown reason, something of a disappointment. Erik pushed the thought away.

"So what can I do for you?" He asked. She smiled.

"I felt in a singing kind of mood and was hoping you weren't too busy."

"Then we should start straight away." Erik said, closing the door. His eyes fell on the tin under her arm and she laughed slightly.

"I was doing some baking this morning and brought some cookies over. Do you like chocolate chip?"

How strange that they could move from apologies to singing to cookies within the space of two minutes, Erik pondered.

* * *

The lesson passed quickly and Erik was relieved to find himself slipping back into a more comfortable mood with her. It was easy to be attracted to the Christine of the previous night. He preferred the current Christine, dressed casually and comfortable enough to fall back into her habit of teasing him.

He made them tea whilst she nibbled on a cookie. He took one and tasted it.

"They're good." He said.

"There's no need to sound so surprised." She said indignantly.

"I'm not. I'm actually paying you a compliment." Erik said, handing her a cup of tea. Christine smiled.

"Then thank you."

"How was the party?" Erik said, not really wanting to know but feeling that he should ask. Christine settled onto the sofa as he took an armchair.

"It was fun, actually. I met Stuart's work friends and his boss. I mean, it wasn't my idea of a grand night out, but still…" She sipped her tea and then sighed. "I haven't spoken to him since last night. I'm making a royal mess out of this. But I know that I can't give him what he wants."

"Then why are you still with him?" Erik asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I'm too selfish to let him go."

The brutal honesty of her words struck him full force. Christine smiled sadly.

"I know it's awful. But… I just don't want to be alone anymore. He wants me and I just feel that if I push him away now, I'm never going to have someone again."

"That's ridiculous."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You are an extraordinary young woman, Christine. You will be able to find someone without effort. Someone who you will be able to appreciate as much as he does you." Erik said, not entirely sure why he was saying it.

Christine looked down at her tea.

"You think I should let him go?"

"I'm not saying that. I don't know exactly what your relationship is with him. Perhaps you should give it more time. But if you know, right now, that you are never going to be able to feel that way for him, you should let him find someone who can."

As if _he_ was someone in a position to give romantic advice, Erik though bitterly. Christine sighed.

"You're right. I am just leading him on."

"It's your decision." Erik said hastily. Christine smiled.

"Yeah. Because the ones I've made so far as so brilliant."

There were several moments of silence in which contemplated their thoughts. Erik looked across at her.

"I sometimes wonder who it was that made you so afraid."

"And I sometimes wonder who it was that hurt you so much." Christine said softly. "I guess we're quite alike really, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"…I'm glad. It's comforting to know that there's someone like me."

"…Yes." Erik said again. It was all he felt capable of saying. Christine looked him the eye.

"I'll tell you one day. Not yet, though. But one day I'll tell you what happened."

"I can't make the same promise." Erik warned.

"I'm not asking you to. Knowing that you'll be here to listen is enough." Christine said. "You will be here, won't you?"

"I don't have plans to leave." Erik said softly.

They looked at each other for a moment. Eventually Christine stirred.

"I'd better go and do some work. I've got a nice pile of editing waiting for me."

"Have fun with that." Erik said deprecatingly. Christine snorted.

"Yeah, sure. It's a rollercoaster of fun. Keep the rest of the cookies; I've got more at home."

"I'll see you later." Erik said, walking her to the door. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you, Erik."

He nodded mutely, watching as she went to her apartment. He then closed the door and leant against the wall, trying to figure out the rush of strange, unwelcome emotions that were flooding his chest.

* * *

There were two messages on Christine's machine. She pressed play and found that they were both from Stuart.

_Hi Christine. Just checking to see if you're OK. Do you want to meet for dinner or something? Call me back._

_Hi, Christine, it's me again. I guess you're still not in. I'll try again later._

Christine reached for the phone but it rang before she the opportunity to dial. She answered hastily.

"Hello?"

"Hi Christine."

"Stuart, I was just about to call you." She said.

"Yeah, where were you? Your mobile isn't on either." Stuart said.

"I was having tea with Erik. I guess I forgot to turn my phone on." Christine said, pushing her hair out of her face. "Are you still free for dinner?"

She might be being selfish. But she was still too afraid.

* * *

The weekend passed painfully slowly. Erik found that he had far too much time to think and all too often found his thoughts wandering to the woman across the hallway.

He eventually figured out a reasonable explanation for the emotions that she brought out in him. The most obvious thing would be that she was the closest person to him, literally. He had no real friends, other than Nadir, and certainly no female ones. It was merely logical that he would react like this to an attractive woman. It was a basic human function.

The second thing he had decided upon was what they had discussed on Saturday. That he and Christine Daae were very similar people, both with injured pasts and issues with trust. It was easy for him to connect with someone whom he had so much in common with. And, he had firmly told himself, as long as he kept it as what it obviously was, there was no harm in it.

And Erik Destler was nothing if not strong willed.

"Ah, there you are." Nadir said as he came in. "No, don't take your coat off. We're going over to Populaire Advertising to see if they'll be interested in doing the promotion for the concert in April."

Fate was a sadistic mistress.

* * *

"Christine, I want you in the boardroom at ten thirty sharp." Firmin said, looking into her office.

"How come?" Christine said, looking up from a portfolio.

"Someone from the Hawthorn Theatre is coming and since you're our representative in those projects, we need you there."

"OK, I'll be there." Christine said. Firmin disappeared and Christine considered the event. Why hadn't Erik mentioned that he'd be coming in? Well, that was assuming that it would be Erik at all. She'd see at ten thirty.

When she entered the boardroom, it was to find Firmin and Carlotta were already waiting. Christine almost halted when she saw that Carlotta was present but decided not to let it get to her.

"They'll be here any minute." Firmin said.

"Do you know what it's for?" Christine asked, taking a seat.

"A concert, in a couple of month's time. A very big affair on all accounts." Firmin said excitedly, grooming his moustache. "I should think that it's going to be a very big job."

"I can't wait!" Christine grinned. "A big job is just what I need right now."

The door opened and Nadir and Erik entered. The three stood to shake hands with them. Christine smiled at Erik, who returned it briefly.

"Mr Khan, Mr Destler, this is Carlotta Guidacelli, a sort of guest-of-honour to Populaire Advertising." Firmin said proudly. Erik saw Christine raise her eyes to the ceiling and fought back a smirk. "And you've already met Christine Daae."

"Indeed we have." Nadir said, with a nod.

They began to discuss the job at hand.

"The concert is to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hawthorn Theatre's opening." Nadir began. "There's going to be music from almost every show that it has been put on. But our big part is Mr Destler's own music. He has written and produced our most successful shows to date, so a lot of the focus will be on his work."

Erik didn't look particularly impressed by this. Christine suppressed a smile at his reaction and asked,

"What do you need?"

"Everything. We want to get all possible advertising done by Populaire." Nadir said. "It should be similar to what you produced on _Il Muto_ but on a much larger scale. This is going to be a very big event and I need that to be conveyed to the public."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Firmin said confidently. Nadir smiled slightly.

"There may be one. We want a theme for the opening."

"A theme?" Firmin's smile faltered but Christine sat forward in interest.

Nadir looked to Erik.

"Perhaps you would care to take the floor?"

"Thank you, Nadir." Erik said smoothly. "Yes, a theme. I want to whole concert to be based on the theme of Heaven and Hell. Life and Death. I presume that won't be a problem."

"It won't." Christine said, ideas already flooding her mind. There was so much she could do with a theme like that. Images flashed in her head, plan after plan looming out of the darkness.

"I'm glad you think so. Because we want you in charge." Erik said, looking directly at her. "Not just for graphics, but for the whole project. A sort of editor-in-chief, if you will. I understand, Mr Firmin, that you are the manager but I have extreme faith in Miss Daae's abilities."

"That makes two of us." Firmin said warmly. "What do you think, Christine? Can you handle that?"

"Tell me when to start." Christine said positively.

With the basics out of the way, Firmin ordered coffee to be brought in. Whilst he was doing this, Christine was already pulling out a notepad.

"Do you have a list of the pieces that are going to be played?" Nadir handed her a folder. There was a CD inside.

"That's got all the pieces on it." He said.

"I was just thinking, why not split them into Heaven and Hell pieces? A mixture of both or in two halves." She said, scanning the list. "This piece, the ballad from _Il Muto_, that would definitely be a Heaven, but this one is much darker. So that could go into Hell."

"Combining them would be better." Erik said. "So they don't drain each other. If the pieces are alternated, they could stand apart and have more of an effect."

Christine shifted her chair around so they were sat together and the pair began to jot down ideas, avidly discussing the plans.

"Two poster types, complete opposites. That'll draw attention to it."

"The decorations of the theatre must reflect the theme. Can you do that here?"

Firmin and Nadir exchanged confident glances. This would not be a problem at all.

As the meeting ended, they all stood to say goodbye. Carlotta moved forward and offered her hand to Erik, smiling.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Destler."

"And you, Miss Guidacelli." He shook her hand briefly before turning to Christine. "I shall speak with you later."

"Of course." She smiled. Firmin and Nadir had already moved ahead, so Erik asked,

"Shall you be visiting this evening?"

"If you're not too busy." Christine agreed. "I'll make dinner, it'll be easier."

"Very well." He hesitated. "Have you spoken to Mr Wilkins?"

Christine looked at her feet awkwardly.

"We had dinner on Saturday night and met before work, as usual. But… nothing's changed, if that's what you mean." She said quietly. Erik didn't really know how to feel about that, so he nodded and then followed Nadir to the exit.

* * *

When Christine arrived that night, she found Erik reading. He had picked up a new copy of Blake and Christine looked at the page, curious to know which poem he was reading.

"I was thinking how similar you were to one of the poems earlier." Erik commented.

"Which one?"

"The Angel."

"Is that a compliment?" Christine smiled. Erik looked at her.

"Not necessarily."

He pointed to a line and Christine read it.

**I dried my tears and armed my fear**

**With ten thousand shields and spears.**

"That's a little too close to home." Christine commented. Erik nodded.

"Very apt, don't you think?"

"Hmm." She flicked through the book. "This could really help with the project you gave me. Innocence and Experience, Heaven and Hell. It's a good comparison, there's a lot of room for artistic license."

"Indeed. Shall we begin?"

* * *

Stuart listened as Christine described the project at breakfast the next morning. He smiled across the café table at her.

"It sounds really interesting."

"It will be." Christine said confidently. "It's going to be a real challenge. Erik and I were discussing ideas last night and I really think that I can do well on this."

"You and he spend a lot of time together. Should I be jealous?" Stuart teased. Their tenseness of the weekend had been pushed away, a sort of silent agreement between them not to bring it up.

Christine smiled at his comment.

"We have a lot in common. And it's handy having him live so nearby. It means we can brainstorm on the projects. It's nice to have something to discuss things like this with.

"What, we can't do that?"

"Stuart, you hate opera." Christine reminded him. She looked at her watch. "We'd better get going or we'll be late."

* * *

"Hi Christine." Meg called as Christine entered the office. They still had a few minutes before work 'officially' started, so she and Sorelli were at the coffee machine, gossiping. Christine joined them.

"How's it going?" Sorelli asked, drinking coffee and yawning,

"Not bad." Christine said, slipping coins into the machine and selecting a drink. "I need to start getting more sleep though; I'm becoming completely dependant on caffeine."

"Is Stuart keeping you up?" Meg winked. Christine gave her an irritated look.

"No. He's not. And I would _really_ prefer not to discuss it."

Carlotta came into the office, clad in a stylish black skirt, white blouse, and to-die-for boots. She joined them at once and cast a disgusted look at Christine's fresh coffee.

"You're actually going to drink that swill?"

"Apparently so." Christine replied flatly. Carlotta pulled a face at the very thought and turned to Meg and Sorelli. But Meg was still preoccupied with Christine's love life.

"Is everything OK with you and Stuart? I mean, I thought you were getting on really well." She said. Christine sighed heavily.

"We are. We just haven't taken it to the next level yet."

"Really? But you've been together for ages!" Sorelli said in astonishment.

"Three months! It's not very long, really. Just because you fall into bed on the first date…"

"Hey, that's an exaggeration." Sorelli said indignantly. Meg considered.

"Actually, that's just about right for you."

Sorelli flounced away, thoroughly insulted. Carlotta looked at Christine.

"You're seeing someone?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I just thought that there was something going on with you and the man from the Hawthorn. The one with the mask." Carlotta said, tossing her hair idly over one shoulder. Christine let out a laugh.

"What, _Erik_? Of course not!"

"But I heard you making plans with him for last night." Carlotta said, with an innocent look on her face. Sorelli instantly reappeared, not wanting to miss out on any gossip. Christine looked at Carlotta and said dryly,

"What you mean is that you were eavesdropping and jumped to conclusions. Erik and I are friends; we live on the same floor of our apartment building. We were meeting up to have dinner, so we could discuss the concert project. Nothing more than that."

Sorelli left again, apparently disappointed by the lack of juicy gossip. Carlotta sighed.

"I saw what I saw. I just suppose you haven't realised it yet." She walked away and Christine was tempted to throw her coffee at the back of her head. Meg grinned at her.

"Breathe, Chris. She's only doing it to rile you up."

"Yes, but its working and it shouldn't be. Oh, I haven't got the energy or inclination to do anything. I'm just going to get to work." Christine said, draining her coffee and dropping the Styrofoam cup into the bin.

* * *

It was late. Christine glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly midnight. She rubbed at her eyes. They were sore from staring at the computer screen for so long. She had been working for hours.

She saved her work and turned the screen off. Suddenly she heard something that made her jump. It was a crashing noise. But it wasn't coming from her apartment, it was coming from…

"Erik?"

* * *

"_Erik, please stop!" She begged. He glared down at her, his fingers digging into her arms._

"_Why did you do it?" He demanded, his voice rough and furious. _

"_I was trying to help you, Erik. I was trying to help!" She pleaded. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore!"_

_Erik gave an angry shout and she cried in fear as the white mask dropped from her hand._

_

* * *

_

He awoke with a sheen of sweat across his face. Erik stumbled out of bed, trying to shake the terrible dream from his mind, going into the living room.

No… no, it hadn't been like that… it hadn't…

It hadn't…

It hadn't…

…it had…

"Damn you!" Erik shouted and before he could control himself, he had punched his fist into the painting on the wall. The glass shattered and the canvas tore.

He could have stood like that for hours, or perhaps just minutes, or even seconds before he heard an anxious female voice outside the door.

"Erik?"

He didn't reply, certain that she would leave if he didn't reply.

"Erik, is everything alright?" Christine called again, apprehension in her voice. Before Erik could work himself up to calling a lie, Christine had tried the door and found it unlocked. The door swung open and Erik saw the look of confusion and horror in her eyes.

"Erik, what happened?" She cried, moving swiftly to his side. Erik couldn't reply. Christine carefully extracted his fist from the painting. Glass and blood fell to the floor, tinkling lightly. She stared at the bloodstained flesh before guiding him silently to the kitchen.

She turned on the water and placed his fist beneath it. Erik hissed as the water stung. Christine winced.

"Sorry." She murmured. Erik didn't reply. She waited until the blood had been rinsed away and saw that there were still several shards of glass embedded in the hand.

"Do you have some tweezers?" She asked. Erik spoke automatically; his mind was lost in the recesses of his dream, where a frightened woman was weeping.

"Under the sink in the bathroom."

Christine left his side momentarily. She returned and paused in the doorway, noticing for the first time that Erik was not wearing a shirt. Across his back were scars, criss-crossing white lines on the skin that covered powerful muscles. She wondered vaguely what had caused them. But the more immediate issue of his hand was still the main focus of her attention.

Trying not to look away, she pulled the glass from his skin before wrapping his fist in a towel. It took a worrying amount of time for the bleeding to stop. She forced him to sit on a kitchen stool as she found a bandage and began to wrap it around his hand.

Slowly, Erik began to emerge from the nightmare. His attention turned to the woman who was carefully tying the knot on the bandage around his fist.

"Christine?" He whispered, realising properly for the first time that she was there. She looked up at him.

"Erik, what happened?"

"…I don't know."

"You destroyed the painting." She said softly. "The one in the living room."

"…I had a nightmare."

Christine stared at him. To anyone else, this explanation would have seemed ridiculous. But she had experienced nightmares so terrifying that she had not slept for days at a time before. Many people underestimated the true potential of fear that nightmares possessed. But she wondered what he had seen, to bring a man so strong to such weakness.

"Will you be able to sleep?" She asked gently. Erik shook his head mutely, feeling like a child. Christine took his uninjured hand and led him through the apartment to the bedroom. She helped him into bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. He was blinking blearily, lost in a place between asleep and awake.

She could tell from his expression that it was a place that frightened him. She held his good hand, stroking the top of it softly, not sure of what to do. She couldn't possibly leave him like this. Her eyes fell upon the music box, the little monkey's eyes gleaming in the darkness. She released Erik's hand and wound the key. The soft, sweet music wrapped itself around them. Erik's eyes fixed on Christine's face and her eyes met his. She moved to kneel by the side of the bed, his hand once again clasped in hers.

"Christine…"

"Shh." She murmured. "Just sleep."

Erik's eyes slid closed and for the first time in many years, he slept in complete and utter peace.

**A/N: I have REALLY gotten into this story now! Lol, unfortunately I'm working solid for the next three days so updates might be a bit scarcer. Plus I'm still working on 'A Defensive Christmas'. But I am loving this story and I hope you all are too! Keep reading and reviewing. I made up a vague plan last night, because I have so many ideas rushing around and I've planned up to at least 23 chapters. And those are just my current ideas. So I've still got a lot of work to go and I can't wait! **

**But, as I said - working. Part time job. W00t. Fun. And also a disaster at the hairdressers. Lol, I guess I should laugh. I've got really cool blue extensions now, but he cut my hair so short, I hate it! Sigh, never mind. Leave a review and cheer up a girl with a deranged haircut.**

**Love**

**Katie **


	14. Eyes Over Wine

**The Girl Next Door**

Christine felt a painful crick in her neck. She must have slept on it funny. She rolled over, wanting to get back to sleep and her eyes shot open as there was a grunt as she rolled onto something large and solid.

Erik Destler peered down at her. It took a moment for her to realise what was going on and she pushed herself up, relieved to find that she was still fully clothed beneath the blankets. Erik was lying on top of the covers, clearly not comfortable with the idea of being under them with her.

"…Erik? What…?"

"You didn't look comfortable on the floor." He said sleepily. This didn't clear things up particularly well for Christine. She took a moment to think this through rationally. What chain of events had led to her ending up in her neighbour's bed?

"Your hand." She mumbled. He held it up and she saw the bandages. Erik looked over at the clock.

"It's four in the morning. You may as well go back to sleep."

Christine was too tired to argue. She carefully positioned herself a respectable space away from Erik and closed her eyes, pulling the cover over her. It was cold. Erik had already closed his eyes. She looked at him for a moment.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you take your mask off to sleep?" She whispered. His eyes opened and bore into hers.

"I do, usually. But not tonight. Go to sleep."

She put her head back down and slipped into delicious unconsciousness.

* * *

She woke again at seven to find herself alone. Christine yawned and pushed the blankets back, rubbing the grit from her eyes. She heard someone moving about in the kitchen and went to find Erik. The glass had been cleared up from the floor, the picture was gone and Christine was greeted by the smell of coffee and toast.

Erik was filling the coffee pot with hot water. Christine watched him. He had put a shirt on now, covering the old scars. He tried to pick something up with his bandaged hand and let out a quiet hiss of pain, dropping the spoon. It clattered on the surface. Christine moved forward and he looked at her.

"Good morning."

"Morning. How's your hand?"

"Sore. But it'll heal."

"Perhaps you should go to a doctor." Christine said. "It might get infected."

Erik laughed hollowly.

"I don't care for doctors. I can take care of it." Christine had no doubt of that. Erik had proved in his time to be a very capable man. He looked at her sideways.

"Thank you. For your assistance last night."

"Just repaying the favour." Christine said. "You looked after me when I was attacked."

Erik put a plate of toast down and Christine helped herself to a piece. As she munched it, she watched him carefully.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Who did that painting?"

Ah… she was far more perceptive than he had given her credit for. Erik glanced at her.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because to punch that particular painting you would have had to cross the living room and aim directly for it. It wasn't an accident that you destroyed it, Erik. Why that painting? There are others in there." She gestured behind her to the living room. Erik poured coffee.

"You're being very presumptuous. Perhaps it was coincidence."

"Or perhaps you're avoiding the question." Christine shot back. Erik put down the coffee pot and looked at her.

"Someone I once knew. I was… angry last night and acted rashly."

"And you'd prefer not talk about it." Christine finished. Erik nodded and handed her a cup.

* * *

"Jesus, Christine, you look like hell." Meg said when Christine got to work. Christine glared at her.

"Shut up. Just shut up. I didn't sleep well."

"What happened?"

"Oh… my neighbour had an accident; I had to help him out." Christine said vaguely. Meg followed her to her office.

"Is he OK?"

"He's fine. But neither of us got much sleep." She hung her coat up and fell into her chair. "I really want to go home. I am so tired."

"Why don't you pull a sickie?"

"Meg, I've never taken a day off work. I'm not going to now, just because I'm a little tired." Christine said flatly.

She turned on the computer and Firmin came in.

"Morning Christine, Meg."

"Morning Mr Firmin. I'll just be getting back to work." Meg said cheerfully. Christine opened a file and Firmin sat on the edge of the desk.

"How is Heaven and Hell coming along?"

"I've got all the ideas. I'm just going to write up the plans and get them to the other departments before I start on designing." Christine said. A yawn hit her and she covered her mouth. Firmin frowned.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. Did you need me?" She asked, suddenly wondering why he was there.

"No, just checking in. If you're not feeling well, just go home. You've got several sick days overdue."

He left, with a concerned look over his shoulder. Christine buried her face in her hands.

* * *

"What in the name of Allah have you done?" Nadir said. Erik looked up from his office door. He had just taken the bandages off to check the extent of the damage.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" He said icily.

"Heard of it. What did you do?"

"I punched a painting." Erik said vaguely. There were several large gashes, as well as a few little cuts and scratches. The knuckles of his fist were bruised as well.

"Oh. That explains everything." Nadir said sarcastically. Erik gave him an annoyed look.

"If you've nothing useful to say, the door is over there."

"Calm yourself, Erik. I just wanted your final approval for the opening plans. We've only got until next Friday."

"I am well aware of when we open, Nadir." He flexed his hand, refusing to wince as sharp pains shot through the muscles. He began to wrap a fresh bandage around the hand, following Nadir to the door.

* * *

"What do you _wear_ to an opening night at the opera?" Stuart asked. Christine shrugged, pinning the phone between her shoulder and ear as she typed on her computer in the study.

"Not sure. I'd guess it's formal, I'll ask Erik."

"I'll have to dig a proper suit out from somewhere then." Stuart said, the line crackling.

"I'll find a dress or something if I have to." She saved her work and turned the screen off. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"Sure." He said in a voice that was far too cheerful.

"Honestly?"

"Not so much." He admitted. "But if I go in with no expectations, it can only be good, right?"

"That's a very odd way of looking at it." Christine commented, going into the kitchen and taking a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I'll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, OK?"

"_Nothing _is going to stop me from getting a good night's sleep." Christine said firmly.

She put the phone down and drank thirstily. It was Wednesday evening and she had only two days before _Il Muto_ opened. She drained the bottle and then crossed to apartment 5a. She could hear music coming from within. The door was, as usual, unlocked and she pushed it open, knocking as she did so.

"Erik?"

"Come in, Christine." He said, not looking up from the piano. She smiled.

"I won't keep you. Stuart and I were just wondering what to wear on Friday. It's a formal occasion, right?"

"That's correct." He said, finally looking up.

"Are you excited?" Christine smiled.

"Should I be?"

"Erik, your opera is about to be opened! Of course you should be!" She laughed. Erik's mouth quirked into a smile.

"Then I'll try and work myself up into the frenzy that currently seems to possess you."

Christine snorted with laughter and Erik stood. For a moment Christine admired his graceful movements, always so smooth and certain. A very different being from the one she had found that night over a week ago. There were no bandages on Erik's hand now, but scabs had formed into thick reddish-brown lines and bruises were yellow and purple.

"Tea?" He asked. Christine nodded and then said,

"A quick cup. I've been designing the main logo for Heaven posters. Do you want to see?"

"I do."

She darted back to her apartment and returned with a folder of designs. She extracted one and handed it to him. It was pure black with the image of a hawthorn tree in white in the centre, with two angelic wings spreading from it, on the very point of flight. In elegant script across the top of the page were the words '_Heaven and Hell - The Hawthorn Theatre_'

"That's just a rough. I'm trying to decide between that tagline or 'The Hawthorn Theatre presents: Heaven and Hell'." Christine said.

"I prefer it like this." Erik commented.

"Really? Well, that makes my job easier!" Christine smiled, closing the folder. Erik smiled too and turned away, forcing himself to breathe in hopes that his heart would cease in it's frantic thudding.

Christine ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face as he handed her a cup of tea. They sat and Erik said,

"Are _you_ excited about _Il Muto_?"

"Erik, I can't wait. I've never been to an opening night before! I used to go to the opera occasionally with my parents but never to the opening."

"Your parents were fans of the opera?" Erik asked. Christine chewed her lip.

"Hmm… Dad was a violinist. He never played anywhere big. But he was good. And Mum adored music, she taught me to play the piano."

"If you don't mind me asking… how did they…?" He gestured helplessly. Christine smiled slightly.

"I don't mind. Mum was in a car crash. I was eighteen at the time. And Dad killed himself about six months later."

Erik watched her as she said it. A carefully blank expression had covered her face. He suspected that it was more painful to discuss the subject than she was admitting to.

"What about your parents?" She asked suddenly. Erik let out a dry laugh.

"I have no idea who my father was. And my mother was… we were not on good terms. I suspect she's dead, but I don't find that I particularly care one way or the other."

"Erik!"

"I'm only being honest, Christine." He said calmly.

"Brothers or sisters?"

"Fortunately, none." He commented, placing his cup on a table. Christine considered him.

"You've been alone for a long time."

"One might consider that a blessing."

"You're so cynical!"

"And you're rather naïve."

Christine rolled her eyes.

"Well, much as I would love to carry on with all the name-calling, I have to get this work done. Thanks for the tea."

* * *

"Do you want to do something tonight?" Meg asked Christine as they drank their coffee during their midmorning break on Friday. Christine shook her head.

"Can't. Stuart and I are going to the opening of _Il Muto_."

"Oh, right, I forgot. Have fun!"

"I will. Don't know about Stuart, but as long as he doesn't fall asleep, we'll manage." Christine grinned. "But we've got great seats and I think he'll enjoy it if he gives it a chance."

"I'd never be able to drag Matt to the opera. You've got Stuart wrapped around your little finger." Meg smiled, throwing her cup away. "Well, back to work. These programmes won't design themselves."

Christine went back to her office, passing Sorelli on the way. She was flirting shamelessly with Steven from communications, who was relishing the attention. Christine gave a little grin at him before passing to her office.

* * *

Erik was emerging from his apartment as Christine got home. She smiled at him.

"Off to the theatre already?"

"There's a horrifying amount to do before tonight." He said.

"Is there somewhere to meet afterwards? I want to buy you a congratulatory drink."

"You're assuming that the opera will be successful."

"No, I _know_ that it will be a success. You couldn't write something that wasn't amazing." Christine said firmly. Erik gave a tiny smile.

"There is a bar in the cellar of the theatre."

"I'll meet you there afterwards then. I'll see you later. I have to take a shower before tonight."

She threw her coat and bag onto the sofa and switched the radio on as she ate a quick meal before she jumped into the hot shower. She scrubbed herself clean and took the dress that she hadn't worn to Stuart's party out of the wardrobe. It was black velvet with thin shoulder straps and reached to just above her knee. The layer of red lace over the top was decorated into a pattern of twisting roses. Christine rarely had an opportunity to wear it, but it would be perfect for tonight. She painted her nails dark red once she had put the dress on and found a black wrap to wear over the top of the dress. It was only February and Christine highly doubted that it was warm enough to risk going without.

She tied her hair into a simple ponytail and dropped a few essentials into a shoulder bag before doing her make up. Dark eye shadow, dark red lipstick to match her nails, mascara and foundation. No need to go overboard.

The intercom buzzed and she let Stuart in. He arrived as she was pulling shoes on.

"How do I look?" He asked apprehensively. Christine smiled at his dark suit.

"Very handsome. What about me?"

"You always look gorgeous, stop fishing for compliments!" He grinned, kissing her on the cheek, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. "Ready to go?"

"Couldn't be readier."

* * *

Their seats were in the centre front of the main balcony, directly overlooking the stage. Christine perched on the edge of her seat, admiring the beautiful theatre. She hadn't really taken it in on her first visit. But now she had time to appreciate the decoration and style of the room. Stuart was glancing through the programme, reading the information.

Finally, at exactly eight o' clock, the lights dimmed and the excitement level rose considerably. The audience quietened and Christine waited eagerly for the curtains to lift. They soon did and Christine allowed herself to fall into the incomparable bliss that no other experience could match in beauty and fulfilment.

* * *

Erik sat in the shadows of Box 5, watching as the story of romance played out between the countess and Seraphimo. A vague smile of satisfaction played across his face. _This_… this was why he breathed. The rich, fantastical music that filled his ears and mind with such beauty, that sensation was what he spent his life doing.

Surely no other person in the world could do this as he could? He did not mean to be arrogant, but he did not believe that anyone needed music as much as he did, so much that they would live for it the way that he did.

He allowed his eyes to dart around the theatre during the ballet of act three. The wealthy patrons were spotted around the other boxes, critics were filling the first few rows, and other various important people filled the seats.

And then he found her. The person he was truly looking for this night. The one person that he believed could possibly appreciate this music the way it could be.

She was sat straight up in her seat, leaning against the edge of the balcony and was gazing in mesmerised adoration at the stage, as the ballet dancers leapt and spun gracefully, using the music as the wings that would lift them to Heaven and back in a single scene. He vaguely noticed Stuart in the seat beside her, watching as so many other people did – with the intention of making this just another night. Those others did not appreciate that, if they allowed it to, this music could change their entire lives, could affect them in ways far more beauteous than religion or art.

But she was different. The utter joy that filled her face convinced him of that. Erik could have watched her all night. Only with the applause that filled the theatre as the act ended, did he tear his eyes away from the girl, no, the woman sat in the balcony, who was applauding, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining.

* * *

"That was _amazing_." Christine sighed as she and Stuart struggled their way through the crowds as the opera finished. Stuart grinned at her.

"I'll admit it, I actually enjoyed it. I won't be making it a regular point to go every time there's a new one out, but it wasn't as bad as I was scared it was going to be."

Christine smiled, still intoxicated for the experience.

"I just loved it; it was so… there aren't even words for it!" She said as they descended the stairs to the bar. It was quite crowded, not enough to make it difficult to get somewhere to sit but enough to make it quite noisy.

"What do you want to drink?" Stuart asked.

"Red wine, please."

"Back in a minute." He disappeared into the crowd. Christine claimed them a table and sat facing the door as she read the programme. Her head felt light and she wanted to laugh with excitement. She hadn't felt like this in so long, it was wonderful to feel so free and happy.

Stuart placed a glass in front of her, with a pint of beer in his other hand.

"I'm impressed. I know you said that Mr Destler's a good musician, but I guess you have to hear it for yourself."

"See? You should always believe everything that I say." Christine said with a smile. She closed the programme and took a sip of her wine. "And look how well it all turned out. Meg and Sorelli did a fantastic job with the programmes."

"_Advertising and Designs by Populaire Advertising_. You should get this preserved." Stuart joked, tapping the small line on the back of the programme. Christine was about to reply when her face lit up and she stood.

* * *

Erik walked slowly into the bar, still revelling in the success of his opera. Every single critic had stopped to congratulate him and Nadir was still on the telephone to various newspapers and radio stations to give information.

He glanced around the busy bar, wondering if he should just go home. But then he saw Christine walking towards him, a huge smile on her lovely face.

"Erik, that was incredible." She said earnestly and, to his utter amazement, lifted herself onto tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his exposed cheek. A waft of sweet perfume floated around her, muffling his senses momentarily before he had a chance to reply.

"You liked it?"

"I _loved_ it. I never dreamed that you could write something so wonderful." She said, smiling. Erik returned the smile and said,

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's good to have an opinion that means something."

How very inconsequential that sentence was. But Christine flushed happily and slipped her arms around him in a hug. Erik, rather unsure of himself, looped his arms about her and for the briefest moment in time, he allowed himself to hold Christine Daae.

His blood raced. His heart pounded. His mind dropped all defences and Erik Destler was finally forced to admit what he had spent so many hours denying.

And, as he released her, his eyes went over her head to meet those of Stuart Wilkins, who was watching with an odd expression on his handsome face.

And it was quite obvious to Erik that he knew as well.

* * *

Christine guided Erik back to their table.

"What do you want to drink, Erik? My treat." Christine offered.

"Red wine."

"Good choice." Christine laughed, glancing at her own drink. She disappeared to the bar and returned a moment later with a glass for him. As she sat, she lifted her glass.

"To _Il Muto_."

"To _Il Muto_." Erik and Stuart echoed. Christine drank a little wine and placed her glass back on the table.

"The countess had an amazing voice."

"She trained in London. She's had a lot of experience in theatre." Erik replied. Christine smiled.

"Is she the Prima Donna?"

"Oh, yes. A very stereotypical actress. She takes a firm hand to keep her in line."

They spoke at great length about the opera and the performers. It was getting rather late when Christine finally noticed the time and the fact that they were the last of the people that had been in the bar.

"I'll bring the car around." Stuart said as they ascended to the foyer. Erik stepped in.

"I brought mine; I may as well take Christine home."

"That makes sense." Christine agreed, "Otherwise you'll be going four miles out of your way just to take me."

Stuart would have liked to argue. But he couldn't fight the obvious logic. Instead he kissed Christine, a little possessively in Erik's eyes, and wished them both a goodnight. Christine followed Erik to his car, a sleek black Jaguar. They were back at Gaston Place within a few minutes in the powerful car.

Once outside their apartments, Erik looked down at Christine.

"Thank you for coming tonight."

"Thank _you_ for giving me the tickets." Christine smiled. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"I'll let you get to bed."

"Hmm. See you tomorrow?"

"I have no doubt of it." Erik murmured and, to her surprise, lifted her hand to his lips and planted the lightest of kisses upon it before going into his apartment.

**A/N: OK, I lied. Here's the next chapter. It's all your fault, you know! You all leave lovely reviews that make me want to write when I just haven't got the time to!**

**Oh, I don't mean it really. And thank you for the sympathy about my hair. It's looking a little better. It's just this insanely short bob. But the electric blue highlights are still awesome, lol. And for everyone who says they're too sacred to try anything with their hair - just do it! Remember, chances are it'll look fantastic. And if not, just remember that hairs gros and you'll be able to alugh about it in future years. **

**  
And yes, I know that you're all wanting Erik/Christine moments but… there are further obstacles. Quite a few of them. Hee hee. I'll try and get another chapter up before Christmas, but no promises. I'm working late tomorrow night and all day on Saturday. We have a sale on. Shoes. Lots of shoes. I'm starting to hate shoes.**

**Love**

**Katie**


	15. Don't Speak

**The Girl Next Door**

Erik scribbled frantically at the sheet music, desperate to get the notes onto the paper before they left his brain. The piece had been eating away at his brain for days, coming and going with new lyrics and melodies.

And it was all for her.

He finished the line and dropped the pen onto the piano lid, lifting his hands to run them agitatedly through his hair. This was _insanity_.

And it had engulfed him.

Erik sighed and sat back from the piano, looking at it but not seeing it. He was lost within his thoughts. It had been over a week since the opening night of _Il Muto_, when she kissed him and embraced him. Since then he had scarcely seen her, deliberately working late at the theatre in an effort to avoid her and give his mind a chance to see the impossibility of the situation.

Because it _was_ impossible. She was… out of his reach. As different from him it was possible to be. And yet, they were so similar that his addled brain could see the possibility that she would return his feelings.

He had not yet admitted out loud. But it was true – he cared for Christine Daae. Cared for her in a way that was not feasibly acceptable. But it was true all the same.

His greatest fear and greatest hope at this time was that she should find out. For he could see that there were only two ways that their lives could progress from there. Separately or joint. Together or never to see each other again.

Better, Erik knew, to remain as they were. Things could go so terribly wrong from hereon in.

_Or they could be better than ever before,_ his mind whispered temptingly. Erik put his head in his hands, trying to block out the voice.

She hasn't seen your face, he told himself silently. If she did, you'd know that she could never love you. If you showed her what lies beneath the mask, behind the pretence, behind the _lie_…

She would run.

* * *

Christine chewed on the end of her pen, staring absently at her computer screen, where an abandoned game of spider solitaire sat. She felt… despondent. 

The phone rang again. It had already rung several times that morning. Christine ignored it, as she had every time before. It was probably Stuart, but she didn't feel like talking to anyone. She just wanted to sit and do nothing at all.

The only problem was that every time she _did_ sit and do nothing, her thoughts turned to the man in the apartment opposite. Christine was puzzled. She hadn't seen Erik in the past week and she… well, she missed him. She missed his company, his subtle but intelligent wit and conversation. She liked spending time with Stuart, but it certainly didn't compare to time spent with Erik.

It hurt, rather, that they hadn't seen each other in so long. He was always working late and seemed to be leaving earlier, so she didn't even have a chance to talk to him as they left for work in the mornings. Of course, she understood that he had an opera to work on, but still…

Christine got to her feet, intent on going to apartment 5a and talking to him. He'd be in, it was a Saturday and he never worked on a Saturday. She rapped on the door and waited for a while.

"Erik?" She called. After a few moments, the door opened slowly and Erik's face appeared in the doorway.

"Christine."

"Are you busy?"

"I am."

She frowned at his shortness.

"Erik, have I upset you?" She asked. He looked surprised.

"Why would you think that?"

"Well… it's just that I haven't seen you all week. I know you're busy with _Il Muto_, but you were before as well and we still found time to at least talk." The words tumbled out without her bidding. Christine felt herself go a little pink but held herself firm. Erik stared at her for a moment before allowing the faintest of smiles to grace his lips before moving back to let her in.

"My apologies, Christine. I have been so caught up that I have neglected you."

"I'll let it pass this time." She said in a teasing way, moving into the living room. He closed the door and jumped as her fingers brushed his cheek. His hand automatically caught hers and she grinned.

"Calm down. You've got ink on your face." She wiped the black smudge away and turned, leaving Erik to feel thoroughly foolish as he, rather reluctantly, released her hand.

"What have you been working on?" She asked, gesturing to the piano.

"A few solo pieces. Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please."

As it brewed, Erik began to clear the music away. Christine watched him from her perch on the arm of a chair. He seemed… different, somehow. He wasn't moving with his usual grace and smoothness.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked.

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure. You seem a little… twitchy."

"I'm fine." He assured her. She nodded and smiled.

"I saw all of the reviews for _Il Muto_. I told you it'd be a success."

"You're a wise woman."

"It's been said." She grinned. He poured her tea, adding milk and one spoonful of sugar, the way she always took it.

She stayed for no longer than a couple of hours. Within in that time, Erik found himself relaxing, even to the point where he was able to make subtle jokes, to which Christine would smile and reply in a way that made him feel an inexplicable warmth in his blood and bones. The radio was playing in the background and suddenly Christine smiled.

"I _love_ Frank Sinatra!"

"I guessed that from the way I found you dancing down the hallway." Erik commented with mirth. Christine stuck her tongue out at him before titling her head to listen.

_Something in your eyes_

_Was so inviting_

_Something in your smile_

_Was so delighting_

_Something in my heart_

_Told me I must have you_

"There isn't anything that music can't say." Christine commented. Erik considered her.

"You think so?"

"Of course. That's why we have music. Because there aren't the rights words. You'd sound silly saying 'something in my heart told me I must have you'. It's like a line from a soap opera. But put it in music and…" She closed her eyes, listening to the song. "And it becomes love."

"You know much about love?" Erik asked quietly. Her eyes opened again and met his.

"I thought I did. But love is deceiving."

"Even true love?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never truly loved someone." Christine said quietly. The song ended and the DJ's voice announced the time. She stood up.

"I'll let you get back to work."

He walked with her to the door and Christine looked up at him.

"I'm just across the hallway, OK? Less than two metres. I'm not going anywhere, so feel free to come over at anytime."

"Anytime?"

"Even if it's the middle of the night and you've decided to take your anger out on another painting." She smiled. Erik smiled too, a little surprised at how easily she could turn such a bad situation into a joke.

"I'll see you later." She said, and disappeared. Erik closed the door.

* * *

He couldn't sleep. His eyes went to the clock for what felt like the millionth time. Erik groaned and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. It didn't. 

And then he heard his name, whispered oh-so softly. He lifted his head from the pillow and saw a slender figure in his doorway. His brow twitched into a puzzled frown.

"Christine?"

Slowly, so slowly, she moved towards him until she was sat on the edge of the bed. Erik sat up and met her eyes, not allowing himself to believe that this was true. Half of her face was cast in darkness, an intensity in her eyes that he had never seen before. Suddenly one her hands lifted to press against his cheek and he smelled that sweet scent that she always wore, could feel the softness of her fingers on his skin.

"Christine…" he murmured, his eyes slipping closed in spite of himself.

"Shh…" her voice smothered him. "Don't say a word."

And she kissed him, completely sure of her actions. Erik didn't know what to do; he was frozen to the spot. And suddenly all of his knowledge and experience rushed back, only to be completely flooded by an urgent instinct. He pulled her down, sliding down onto the bed, his mouth pressing hard against hers, desperate, pleading, longing. He could feel her slim body against his, her arms around him, her legs entwined with his.

"Christine-"

"Don't speak." She pleaded. "Don't speak, Erik."

His hand ran over as much of her as he could reach, trying to commit her to memory, longing to know all of her and wanting to know it now. Her hands ran through his hair and suddenly she broke the kiss to stare down into his face, her own face framed with wild curls, her eyes shining and mouth flushed with their frantic kisses.

Her fingers brushed against the mask. Erik didn't move as she slid her fingers beneath it and lifted it from his face. Her eyes never left his as cool air rushed over his now-unmasked cheek. Her mouth opened, not to scream, but to speak tenderly.

But Erik never heard those words that he longed to hear.

All he heard was the incessant beeping of the alarm clock. His eyes snapped open and he looked in confusion at the bedroom ceiling.

And then he swore profusely.

* * *

Christine was late. Her alarm clock hadn't gone off, the batteries having died during the night. She fell out of the front door to the building at Gaston Place, having apologetically called Stuart to say she wouldn't be meeting him for their usual breakfast. 

She half ran to work and burst in through the doors. Several people looked up in astonishment and Meg grinned.

"Oversleep?"

"Just a tad." Christine called as she shot past to her office. She sat down at her desk and tried to compose herself, brushing her hair back into an acceptable condition. Firmin looked in.

"Late?"

"I'm so sorry, my alarm clock died."

"That's fine, Christine. You're the only member of staff who _hasn't_ ever been late." Firmin pointed out. Christine smiled.

"Damn, there goes my perfect record."

"You may have to opt for less than one hundred per cent." He agreed, moving on. Christine turned on her computer and began to work.

At lunchtime Meg and Sorelli appeared.

"Coming to lunch?"

"Sure." She finished the final piece of editing and picked up her handbag. "Where d you want to go?"

"Let's go to the pub." Sorelli said. "I need hot food."

They walked down to the end of the street, where they occupied the end of the bar, looking over menus. Once they had placed orders and received drinks, Meg looked at Stuart.

"I was talking to Matt last night. He said Stuart's been in a really bad mood lately."

"What?" Christine looked at her, confused. "He hasn't been in a bad mood."

"I'm just repeating what Matt said." Meg said defensively. Christine sighed.

"I can _not_ deal with this right now."

"What's going on with you two?" Sorelli demanded. Christine shrugged.

"Nothing."

"Maybe that's the problem." Meg suggested. Sorelli nodded in agreement. Christine glared at them.

"Why are you ganging up on me?"

"Because we're nosy." Sorelli said frankly.

Christine swallowed a mouthful of coke and sighed heavily.

"He wants to. I don't."

"Why? C'mon Chrissie, the man is _fine_." Sorelli pointed out. "If it was me-"

"You'd already have slept with him, dumped him and moved on." Meg cut in. Sorelli rolled her eyes but didn't dispute it. Christine traced the rim of her glass with a finger.

"I don't know. I just… OK, you can't tell anyone this but I don't think it's going to work out."

"What? Why not? Stuart's a sweetie!" Meg cried.

"I know! It's not him, it's me. I can't feel that way about him and he deserves someone who can. But I don't know how to break up with him, so I'm just going to wait and see if things get better." Christine said. "So don't say anything yet. I'm going to give it a little more time."

Their food arrived and the conversation was quickly forgetting and changed to something far more casual. Such as Sorelli's date with Steven from communications that night.

* * *

Stuart called Christine that night. 

"Do you want to meet for dinner?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I need to talk to Erik about the developments on the concert planning."

"Isn't that what office hours are for?" Stuart asked, sounding a little put out.

"I tried to call the theatre today but with the success of _Il Muto_, he just isn't available during the day. I'm sorry Stuart, but I have to get this sorted. I can't do anymore work until he's looked over and approved of everything."

In truth, Christine was glad for the excuse to avoid Stuart. If he was in the bad mood that Matt seemed to think he was, it was much easier for her to simply avoid him. Maybe she was taking the easy route out of the situation, but for the time being, she was OK with that.

Christine waited until about seven before gathering up her things and crossing to Erik's apartment. Once again, she heard music coming from within. She paused, not wanting to interrupt. Once the piece finished, she knocked. Moments later the door opened and Erik looked down at her.

"Hi Erik. Sorry to disturb you, but I couldn't get hold of you all day." She said cheerfully. Erik was well aware of the fact. He had noticed several missed calls on his office phone from Populaire Advertising and had purposefully not replied to them.

It had only been three days since that dream. But he could remember every detail vividly. Especially now that he had the original item before him, putting folders down on the desk and pulling out rough copies of her designs.

He brought them both coffee and sat opposite her to look over the designs. Christine seemed to be very excited about the project.

"This is the one I'm not sure about." She said, handing him a copy of the Hell poster. It was black with the hawthorn print in the centre, the same as the Heaven one. But instead of white angelic wings, the tree was engulfed with blood red flames.

"I don't know if that's what you were looking for." Christine commented. Erik examined the poster closely.

"No, it's good." He said after a few moments deliberation. "It'd well contrasted with the Heaven design."

"Great. I'll get that finished and sent to the other departments for mock-ups." Christine smiled. Erik looked at her closely.

"Christine?"

"Yes?"

"…What are you doing here?" He asked. She looked at him in surprise.

"Doing work."

"No, Christine. You know perfectly well that you could simply have faxed these to the Hawthorn. Why wait until this evening?"

Christine inwardly groaned. Sometimes she disliked his perceptiveness.

"I'm… actually, I'm avoiding someone." She said, shuffling papers uncomfortably.

"Stuart."

"…Yes."

"Why?"

"Because apparently he's been in a bad mood. I haven't noticed anything, but that probably isn't helping. And I didn't really feel like dealing with that right now. I'd rather be with someone who's going to make me feel comfortable. Someone I'm not going to have to pretend for."

She looked up at him at last.

"That's what I like most about you, Erik. I don't have put on a face when I'm with you." She said in a solemn tone. "I can just be me."

Looking back at what followed, Erik had no idea what it was the made him do it. Momentary insanity, intense longing or possibly the essence of what she had just said setting in, in entirely the wrong way. All he knew was that in a single instant, he had covered the short space between them and moved to kiss her.

But he never did.

Because Christine jerked back out of his grip, her eyes wide as she jumped to her feet.

"What are you _doing_?" She demanded, horrified. Erik stood and looked at her.

"Christine…" He didn't know what to say. Christine ran a hand through her hair, mind reeling. He tried again.

"I thought… lately, I've been feeling…"

"No. No…" She shook her head, face twisted into dismay.

"Christine-" He took a step forward but Christine had seized her papers and was heading for the door. Erik hurried after had and caught her arm before she had a chance to go through the door.

"Christine, stop!"

"Erik, let me go, you're hurting me!" She spat. Erik didn't release her.

"Just listen to me, Christine." He ordered.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" She cried, tugging at her arm. It was painful, his grip like iron.

"I'm trying to tell you that I care about you, but you're not making it particularly easy!" Erik said angrily.

She stared at him, aghast. He didn't release her arm and said quietly,

"I'm not sure how or when I began to feel like this. But I know why. It is because of you, Christine. You are the only person who has… who has made me feel as if there is a _reason_ for anything other than my music. You… you came out of _nowhere_ and you've changed my life and-"

"Stop."

It was not an order. It was a plea. Erik looked at her. Her face was set in an expression of fuming anger, eyes blazing.

"Don't say another word, Erik." She insisted. "I have a boyfriend."

"Who you don't love! You have admitted it enough times and you're the only who won't believe it." Erik pointed out. "How many times have you told me how you feel about him?"

_**Because he's not the person you're meant to be with.**_

The words struck home with horrific force, as Christine realised their true meaning. How… how had she gotten it so impossibly wrong?

A shiver went through her and she shook her head.

"Let go of me." She said again, and now she was able to pull her arm from his hand. For a moment he stared down at her and he realised what it was that he had done, what it was that he had said to her, the madness that had possessed him slipping into cruel reality.

Christine gazed at him in fear, dismay and horror. And then she had slipped through the half-open door, leaving him, as he always was, alone.

* * *

Christine threw the papers onto the coffee table and seized her coat. 

She had to get out.

She didn't look at the door opposite, the brass letter and number of 5a gleaming. She went straight to the elevator and walked out of the building, pacing swiftly as though she were going somewhere vitally important.

_He cares about me_.

Christine turned a corner, walking past a group of teenagers who ignored her. She kept walking, her mind hazy from the swiftness of the events that had just passed.

_He cares for me_.

"Christine?" She stopped and saw Stuart coming out of a building, car keys in his hand and clutching a file under one arm. It was the office where he worked. She hadn't even realised where she was. His face broke into a smile.

"Have you finished with Erik?"

"What?" His words startled her but she realised too late what he had meant. "Oh… yes."

"Want to go for a drink? I was just picking something up. I didn't expect to see you."

"Sure. I could really use a drink." Christine said hollowly.

They went to a pub a few doors down from his offices. Stuart ordered a pint of beer and Christine had a Baileys, wanting something stronger but not daring.

"Are you OK? You seem a bit off." Stuart asked as they sat down. Christine nodded.

"Yes. It's just… it's been a weird sort of evening is all."

"Did you get your work done?"

"Yes." She sipped at the Baileys and then put her glass down. Stuart watched closely as she tapped the side of the glass with a fingernail.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're a terrible liar, Christine." Stuart said flatly. "Something is wrong. What is it?"

Christine smiled weakly.

"I don't know. I'm just tired, I guess."

"I'll take you home then. See if you can get some sleep." Stuart suggested.

Christine didn't know what to do. She did not want to go back to Gaston Place, to face _him_. But the only other place would be Stuart's apartment and she didn't want to lead Stuart into thinking that she wanted something from him.

"That's probably a good idea." Christine said.

She let Stuart walk her right up to her front door. He looked at her and smiled.

"I hope you're feeling better tomorrow."

"Me too."

He kissed her, his usual kiss. Sweet, loving, tender. Thoroughly Stuart-like. Christine returned it for a moment and then pulled away, guilt flooding her.

"Goodnight Stuart."

"Goodnight, Christine. I'll see you at breakfast."

She went into the apartment and waited for a moment until Stuart would have had time to get to the elevator. And then she did something that she usually never did at night, because she had never felt the need to before now.

She locked the apartment door.

**A/N: An evil chapter, I know. My biggest fear with chapters where something big happens is that it happens too quickly. Has this all come about too soon? Is it even remotely realistic? I don't know. (Looks doubtfully at chapter) Please be brutally honest with this one. I really hope you liked this chapter but if you didn't I need to know what I'm doing wrong, OK?**

**BTW, seriously, I SO don't have time to keep writing these chapters at this rate! I haven't even finished the final chapter of 'Defensive Christmas' which is due up tomorrow when I'm working 12-5 tomorrow, going to church at 6 so I won't even have time for a shower, so I'll have to worship God being all stinky from work and getting hyper-excited for Christmas! But you all leave these reviews and I'm just... OMGOSH, THEY LOVE ME! MUST WRITE AND UPDATE AT INSANE PACE!  
**

**Oh, and I apologise for the dream sequence. I just want to hear the jaws drop and see how many threats arrive in my inbox. **

**Love**

**Katie**


	16. Don't Run Until You Can Walk

**The Girl Next Door**

Christine set her alarm clock half an hour early the next morning. She was out of the building before Erik had even emerged from his apartment.

_This is how you deal with things – you just avoid them. You run away._ A little voice in the back of her mind hissed at her as she made her way to the café. She was tempted to bash her head into a lamppost in order to remove the voice. Instead she chose to drown it out with caffeine.

With a chocolate croissant and a double café latte, Christine claimed their usual table and sat down to wait for Stuart. She touched her arm. There were purple bruises on the pale skin. He was so strong, she hadn't realised. She rolled down her sleeve and looked out of the window, waiting for Stuart. He arrived fifteen minutes later and sat down with his usual coffee and bagel.

"How are you feeling today?" He asked, kissing her.

"Much better. Ready to get to work and spend a day designing and advertising." She smiled. Stuart grinned.

"Any chance of meeting for dinner tonight? Or are you and Erik working again?"

"No. No, I'll meet you for dinner." Christine said quickly. He looked at her, surprised at the speed of her response. But the moment passed and he smiled.

"Great. I worry about you spending so much time with him sometimes. Should I be getting jealous?" He said in a teasing way.

Blood pounded in Christine's ears as she stammered a reply. Stuart looked at her strangely and she picked up her bag.

"You know what? I've just remembered that I've got a meeting with Firmin this morning. What time do you want to meet for dinner?"

"Six thirty? I'll pick you up from your apartment."

"No! I'll meet you at yours, I don't know if I'll have time to get home after work." Christine said speedily. She kissed him and hurried to the door.

Stuart watched her go, his heart sinking. Something had happened between her and that man. Christine was usually very good at hiding her emotions but now… now she was unable to cope with them.

Suddenly Stuart didn't feel at all hungry and he threw the uneaten bagel into the bin, leaving the café with dread in his heart.

* * *

"Christine, some of the Hawthorn people are coming in today." Firmin said. Christine knocked over her pencil holder and stared at him. 

"What? Why?"

"To check progress, of course." He looked at her. "Is everything alright?"

"…Yes. It's fine. What time?"

"Eleven, be in the boardroom at ten to." Firmin said.

Christine watched him go and then forced herself to be calm. Erik couldn't try anything in her workplace, he wouldn't. She didn't need to be…

_Why are you so afraid?_ The voice demanded. Christine chewed on her lip.

…_I don't know_.

* * *

Nadir and Erik arrived at exactly eleven, finding Christine, Firmin and Carlotta waiting for them. They took their usual seats and Firmin looked at Christine. 

"Christine's been doing most of the work; I'll leave it up to her to fill you in on the progress."

Christine spread out the designs and explained each one briefly. She was horribly conscious of Erik's eyes on her, but every time she glanced at him, he was looking elsewhere. Nadir seemed extremely impressed.

"This is good work. The designs are particularly well done."

"You can depend on Christine." Firmin said proudly.

"I'm sure you can." Erik said quietly. Christine looked at him and he turned his attention to the posters. Christine bit her lip for a moment before saying,

"The radio advertisements are going to be recorded next week. I believe that the theatre is going to be organising that."

"Yes, that's right." Nadir said. "But we'd like someone to be there."

"I'll send Meg, she's good with that sort of thing." Firmin offered. Christine nodded.

"Then I think we've covered everything so far."

They all stood to shake hands. When Erik reached Christine, she didn't change the blank expression from her face, but shook his hand as briefly as though he were just another client before picking up her things, with not so much as a hint of eye contact. Firmin said,

"Will you both stay for a coffee?"

"That sounds wonderful." Nadir agreed and Erik nodded briefly. Firmin looked at Carlotta and Christine.

"You'll both join us?"

"I've got a lot to do today." Christine said. "Please excuse me." She was gone before anyone had a chance to stop her. Erik watched her go, regret eating at his mind and sorrow eating at his soul as he sat to drink bitter coffee with Nadir, Firmin and Carlotta.

* * *

"Would you care to explain the situation between yourself and Christine Daae?" Nadir said sharply on their return to the Hawthorn Theatre. Erik looked at him. 

"There is no situation."

"The frosty looks and awkwardness between the pair of you would imply otherwise."

"I assure you, Nadir, that there is _nothing_ between myself and Miss Daae." Erik said icily. Nadir eyed him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Erik, Populaire Advertising are the best around. We need them and Christine Daae is a key part of our advertising staff. We need her. If you have issues with that, I suggest you sort them out quickly." Nadir said, his calm demeanour becoming tense at the unfortunate situation. He turned and walked to the office.

Erik went to his own office and sat in pensive silence. So many times he had gone over the previous night in his mind, replaying the dire incident until he had forced himself to sleep, with a little help from a bottle of whiskey. Words alone could not describe the regret he had.

He had had someone. For the first time in so long, there had been someone who had wanted to be near to him. The way she had spoken, the way she had described how much she had enjoyed being with him had overridden his common sense and allowed instinct to take over. He had destroyed all that they had had together. The sweet friendship of a person, the companionship of a good woman, the equality they shared in their music.

It was all gone. Because he had acted without thinking. Now she was gone, most probably forever. He could see no way of her forgiving him. And he knew for certain that she would never feel the same way about him. Even though she hadn't said it, it was quite clear…

Damn her!

Erik's sorrow and regret turned, in a flash of lightening to unreasonable anger. How could she? How _dare_ she? To act like that, to say those gentle words only to throw them back in his face moments later!

Erik knew that this fury was unwarranted and unfair. But he could not stop it. He wanted to hit something, wanted to find something and drive his fist into it, damaging the healing wounds that only served as a constant reminder of _her_. He wanted to make her feel the way he did, wanted to shake her until she felt as terrible as she made him feel. To have this aching in _her_ chest, this knowledge of unhappiness in _her_ heart.

He wanted to hurt her.

The telephone rang and Erik glanced half-heartedly at the caller id. _Populaire Advertising_. His heart leapt into his mouth, his feelings a mixture of hope and of fury and he picked up the telephone.

* * *

Christine rubbed her eyes. She had half an hour before she had to meet Stuart. She supposed that she should go, although the idea seemed thoroughly unappealing now. 

She just wanted to go home, curl into a foetus position and sleep for days, turn the whole ordeal into some fuzzy dream and go back to what she had had before.

But… what exactly was that? What _had_ she had?

A boyfriend. A job she adored and worked hard at. A neighbour who was one of the best friends she had come across, one of the only people she had ever related to properly.

And now – a boyfriend whom she didn't love and never could. A job she would now face everyday with the knowledge that at any minute she may come across Erik. A neighbour whom she could never see again without feeling…

Feeling what?

There were so many questions. And Christine had none of the answers.

"You're still here?"

She looked up and saw Meg peering through the office door. She smiled weakly.

"Looks like it. I was just about to go though. Why are you here so late?"

"My home computer is dead and I needed to get some work finished." She looked at her. "What's with the long face, Chris?"

"Just my world falling apart." Christine said dryly.

"Oh, is that all?"

Meg plonked herself down into the chair opposite Christie' desk and said,

"C'mon. Tell Meg all about it."

"I can't."

"Tell her some of it using cunning pseudonyms." Meg suggested. Christine smiled and shook her head.

"Where do I start?"

"I believe the beginning is traditional." Meg said helpfully.

And so, never using Erik's name, Christine related the story to her friend, who listened with concentration.

"So what did you do when he tried to kiss you?" She asked as Christine paused to collect herself.

"I ran out. Well, I tried. But he grabbed my arm and sort of yelled at me that he cared about me and… and I brought up Stuart but he said that he knows that I don't love Stuart. And then I just ran out." Christine said slowly. Meg whistled.

"You've got serious problems."

"Tell me about it."

Meg considered her for a moment.

"Chrissie?"

"Yes?"

"…You've got to let go." She said softly. "This isn't about Stuart and Erik."

"I never said-"

"Oh, _please_. You're not exactly a mastermind; your ingenious code wasn't hard to crack." Meg scoffed. Christine sighed and Meg continued.

"This isn't about Stuart and Erik. This is about what happened before. You've got to let go."

"Let go?"

"You're so scared by what happened that you're afraid to even give someone else a chance." Meg pointed out. "Face it, Christine. You've got two gorgeous guys falling over themselves to be with you and you're refusing to get into anything because of the slight possibility that you _might_ get hurt. I hate to break it to you but it's too late – you're already into something. Two somethings."

"It's so easy for you to sit there and say that!" Christine said angrily. "You never went through what I did!"

"No, but I was there the whole time, wasn't I?" Meg demanded. "I was always there; I was with you the whole time. I know what you went through, because I saw it. And maybe that's why I can speak so easily about this. Outsiders perspective or whatever."

Christine stared at her and then put her head in her arms.

"Meg…"

"Make a decision, Christine. I can only deal out advice. I can't tell you what to do." Meg said, getting to her feet. Christine looked up at her.

"What would you do?" She asked suddenly. "If you were in my position?"

"I'd clean myself up, go and see whichever of the guys I wasn't going to be with, tell them it's over and then go to the other one and get it all out. Men aren't psychic, Chris. You've got to let them know." She glanced at her watch. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Christine watched her go and then contemplated her advice.

_Let it go_…

It was true. She was being pathetic, letting her past rule her like this.

Erik had made the first move. He had given Christine a chance to decide one way or the other. And now it was her turn to be brave, to try and release the chains of her past. Perhaps she had burnt her bridges with Erik, destroyed their valuable friendship.

She still had time to save Stuart from more hurt than was necessary.

* * *

Since she was running late, Christine called Stuart to tell him to meet her in the pub. He was sat at a table in the corner when she arrived. She didn't buy a drink but crossed straight to him. He smiled at her, holding the menu in his hands. 

"Hey. How was work?"

Christine didn't know what to say. She sat down and looked across the table at him. His smile faded.

"Everything OK?"

"…No." She said quietly. "I… Stuart, I need to talk to you."

His expression became resigned.

"Chrissie-"

"Stuart, I can't do this. I… I've been leading you on for so long now and it isn't fair." Christine said, forcing the words out. Stuart tried to interrupt but she held up a hand. "I've been so terrible to you. You've given me everything and I've given you nothing. I was only holding on to you because I was too afraid to be alone."

"This is because of Erik Destler, isn't it?"

His words felt like a blow to her skull. Her mouth opened but no words came out. He was looking at her a depressed look on his face.

"Isn't it?"

"Stuart… there isn't anything going on between me and Erik." Christine said.

"But he wants there to be."

"How did…?"

"Come off it, Christine, it was bleeding obvious!" Stuart said, growing angry but keeping his voice low. "I saw the way he was looking at you in the bar at the theatre! The way you're always spending time together, you said yourself that you have so much in common with him… I'm not a complete idiot."

Christine took a deep breath. _How_ was it possible that Stuart had seen this coming and she hadn't? She licked her dry lips.

"I'm… he…" She stopped and tried to start again but Stuart interrupted her.

"What happened last night?"

"Last night?"

"Yes." He watched her closely. Christine swallowed hard.

"He… he told me that he cared for me."

"And?"

"I left. I was angry and I walked out and… and then I ran into you."

They sat in silence. Christine finally understood the full meaning of wanting the ground to swallow her up. She just wanted to crawl into a corner and die, anything to get away from these awful feelings. Stuart was staring at the table, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Christine wondered if she should speak. But what could she _possibly _say to improve the situation?

"I didn't mean to hurt you." She said, sounding like a child. Stuart looked up and then said quietly,

"I'm going to ask you something. And I want you to think about it and answer honestly. Can you do that?" She nodded and he took a breath. "Do you have feelings for Erik Destler?"

Christine made to protest but the look in Stuart's eyes made her fall silent. She closed her eyes tightly, thinking desperately. Stuart watched her closely. After several long moments, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I don't love him."

"I didn't ask that." Stuart said shortly. Christine swallowed hard.

"…I don't know. I don't love him, I know that much."

She was silent for a moment.

"But… but I don't want to… to be without him in my life." She whispered. "He… he's too…"

"Special." Stuart finished the sentence. Christine felt tears pricking at her eyes.

"But I was so _angry_. I shouted at him."

"You're a coward, Christine Daae." Stuart said coldly.

She looked at him in surprise. He had his arms folded across his chest.

"You couldn't be alone so you stayed with me. I'll forgive you for that. But you're so _damn_ wrapped up in being afraid that you're using it as a security blanket. Why the hell won't you let yourself be happy? If you care for him that bloody much, just get out of here and stop pretending for once. Whatever happened to you before we met is over. So _get over it_." He said viciously.

Christine stared, shocked at his change in attitude. He shook his head in despair.

"I do love you. I admit that. But you refuse to admit anything at all."

"Stuart-"

"I think it'd be best if we steered clear of each other for a while." Stuart cut in. "It'll be easier that way."

"I'm so _sorry_." Christine whispered, the tears now threatening to fall. Stuart swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yeah… me too." He stood, picked up his coat and looked down at her, frowning. "Don't be afraid to be happy, Christine. Happiness won't kill you."

He walked out. And he didn't look back.

Christine stared at the closed door for a moment before standing and walking out, with one destination in mind.

Apartment 5a of 142 Gaston Place.

* * *

The elevator rose slowly. Christine watched in dread and anticipation as the numbers flashed past, coming to a stop on the five. She stepped out into the corridor and walked down towards the two doors. 

She went to her own apartment first, putting her coat and bag away and taking a quick glance in the mirror. Oh, why the hell did it matter what she looked like? Christine glared at her reflection and then pulled open her door. She moved forward and lifted her fist to knock on the door to 5a. The sound was hollow, yet full of possibilities.

Christine dug her nails into her palms, terrified and desperate. There was no reply. She knocked again and then ventured a call.

"Erik? Are… are you there?" She said in as loud a voice as she could muster through her nervousness. She knocked again.

And then she heard the door handle being turned. Her heart seemed to be jumping from her feet to her mouth in agonising motions. Christine took a steadying breath to face the man within.

But it was not Erik Destler who stood in the doorway.

It was Carlotta Guidacelli, a smirk on her beautiful face. A tight pain shot through Christine's chest as she took a step back from the woman.

"Can I help you?" Carlotta asked in a sweetly venomous tone. Christine couldn't reply. She didn't need to. Because Erik had emerged from the kitchen. Carlotta looked over her shoulder.

"Erik, I think it's for you."

Erik looked over and stopped in his tracks. Christine stared straight at him, the air being sucked from her lungs, leaving her head spinning and her chest pained. Erik moved towards the door and Christine took another step back. Carlotta slid an arm around Erik's waist but he didn't seem to notice. There was an expression in his eyes that Christine could not recall having seen there before, even though she couldn't name it.

All this happened in less than a minute. Erik forced himself to speak.

"Christine…"

But she had turned on her heel and was rushing back to the elevator as quickly as she could.

Sometimes it was easier to just run.

**A/N: I am SO relieved that the last chapter went down so well. I was so unsure about it. And this one...? Well, I know it's all dramatic, but the drama is going to seriously tone down a bit over the next few chapters. I promise you that! **

**I'm also rather glad that you don't like Christine all the time. That's real life, right? You don't like everyone all the time. Even people you DO like can annoy you. So that kinda cheered me up a bit! I also promise that Christine's reasoning will become clear eventually, and both hers and Erik's pasts will come out. Just not yet.**

** Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Last chapter for a while, so treasure it! And I know it's mean to end on a bit of a cliffhanger, but hey, it keeps you all reading, so there you go. Oh, and I wanted to say how surprised I was at how popular this story is getting! I was looking at the stats for this fic and it currently has over 13000. 'Cold, Cold Heart' only has around 5000! You guys are awesome.  
**

**A Very Merry Christmas to you all. May God keep you and your families safe (apparently he didn't mind me being stinky at church!)  
**

**Love**

**Katie **


	17. Letters To Christine

**The Girl Next Door**

Meg was watching an old episode of 'Friends' when there was a frantic knocking at the door. She answered irritably, having been thoroughly engrossed with the drama of Ross and Rachel.

What she found was Christine, looking thoroughly miserable.

"Christine? What's up?" Meg said. Christine sniffed.

"I went to see him."

"Yeah?"

"Someone beat me to it."

"Who?"

"…Carlotta."

"_What_?"

Christine hugged her arms around herself as Meg let her in.

"He was with Carlotta. Or, at least, she was there. In his apartment." She said quietly.

"Were they wearing clothes?" Meg checked.

"Yes."

"Were their clothes rumpled?" Meg asked.

"I don't know, Meg! I was too busy being in utter shock and running away, as bloody usual!" Christine retorted angrily. Meg held her hands up in the universal signal of surrender.

"OK, I get it. Sit down, I'll make tea."

Christine collapsed onto the sofa and Meg called from the kitchen,

"Pure curiosity speaking here, but how did they… _seem_?"

"What, Erik and Carlotta?"

"Yeah."

"…I don't know. She put her arm around him and he didn't exactly object to it." She said miserably.

Meg returned with tea a few moments later. Christine took her cup and looked down at the brown liquid, wisps of steam rising from the surface.

"Meg, can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course. But you'll have to go back eventually."

"I know… I just… if I go back now I'll have to talk to him. And if _she's_ still there, I just don't want to…"

Her voice faded away. Meg sighed.

"I can't believe it. I mean, I know that you and Carlotta didn't like each other, but still… I never knew she was such a bitch."

"What am I supposed to do? I can't go back! I can't see him and know that… but I _live_ there. I'm just getting back on track; I can't go through all that again!"

"Hold it!" Meg held up a hand. "Calm down. Don't go getting all hysterical on me, OK? Look, we'll go into work an hour or two late. Firmin won't mind, you're his pet worker. If everything's OK, you can stay there. If not, we can pick up a few things and you can come back here. No problem."

They both knew that it was not that simple. But it was easier to pretend for the time being.

"How am I going to face Carlotta at work tomorrow?"

"With a beautiful smile and an 'I-couldn't-care-less-that-you-shagged-my-neighbour-' attitude." Meg said firmly.

"_Meg_!"

"That'd be better than if you went in there with a look that your puppy just got hit by a car. Sort of like the expression you're wearing right now." She paused. "Actually, I'd say you look more pissed off at the moment."

"Oh, I wonder why." Christine said sarcastically.

Meg grinned.

"Don't worry, OK? Things can only get better. Have you eaten yet?"

* * *

They waited until nine-thirty the next day, making sure that it would be when Erik was at the theatre by the time they arrived. As they climbed the front steps, Meg said,

"Whatever happens, you can stay with me for as long as you want, OK?"

"Thanks Meg. But I won't impose on you."

"Christine, have you seen yourself lately? You don't take up much room." Meg said. Christine gave her an irritated look and then paused. The door was already open and a man was walking past, carrying a box to the moving van parked on the curb. A horrible feeling began to worm into her mind.

The elevator seemed to rise twice as slowly. Christine watched the buttons light up as they passed the floors. When they reached the fifth floor, she was met by the sight of Nadir Khan standing outside 5a, talking to a man in rough clothing, carrying a box.

Nadir caught sight of her and lowered the clipboard he was carrying. Christine swallowed and moved forward.

"Erik?"

"…He's gone." Nadir said quietly. Christine closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again.

"Where?"

"Paris. The opera house there is putting on _Il Muto_ and they wanted him there to supervise. He originally refused but I got a phone call out of the blue last night, saying that he'd changed his mind. He set off early this morning. He owns an apartment there as well as this one, something of a retreat for him."

Meg let out a whistle.

"Oh… Christine, I'll wait outside. Call me up if you want me." She disappeared. Nadir waited until she had gone before saying,

"I'm going to assume you were involved somehow."

"No, I didn't. That was the problem." She whispered. Nadir sighed.

"Erik is a very complicated man, Miss Daae. I suggest that you don't blame yourself for this."

"How… how long will he be gone for?" Christine asked, not knowing if she wanted to know the answer.

"I don't know. Several months, I should think." Nadir said. Christine swallowed hard.

"I didn't… I didn't mean to-"

"Stop."

She looked at him in surprise. He was surveying her with a sympathetic expression.

"Miss Daae, I believe the phrase is 'it takes two to tango'. Erik is just as responsible for whatever happened as you are. He is a grown man and he made a decision. Do not hurt over something that you don't have complete control of." He looked at his watch. "I must get back to the theatre. I will see you at the next meeting on the Heaven and Hell concert."

He walked past and then paused.

"Oh, yes. I was instructed to give you this. Something of a peace offering, from what I can gather." He handed her a large, sealed envelope. With a brief smile and a nod, Nadir disappeared into the elevator.

Christine went into her apartment and sat on the edge of the sofa as she slowly opened the large brown packet. Inside were several sheets of paper. She pulled them out. It was sheet music, all of the songs that they had done in her lessons. Christine flicked through them and found on, right at the end, that she did not recognise. Separating it from the others, she read through it.

"Think of me…" She murmured. After a few moments, she put the music back into the packet and placed it on the coffee table before going into her bedroom to change into clean clothes.

* * *

"Meg, Christine, I'm glad you're here. I need your opinion on this poster." Firmin said, as they arrived at Populaire Advertising. He handed them the poster and they examined it closely.

"It's too crowded." Christine commented. "This text can go for a start and this imaging is too bright. Overshadows the title."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, if that's what you think." He paused. "I trust this business of this morning has been taken care of."

Meg hesitated and glanced at Christine. She smiled weakly.

"It rather took care of itself."

"Excellent. Well, I'll go and edit this." Firmin wandered off to his office. Christine and Meg stopped at the coffee machine.

"You OK, sweetie?" Meg asked sympathetically. Christine shrugged.

"Not really. But there you go. Might as well concentrate on something so at least I can get some work done."

"I'm taking you out tonight. It's only Thursday, no one's going to care if you come in with a hangover tomorrow." Meg said firmly. Christine smiled.

"Thanks but no. I think I'm just going to get some decent sleep tonight and possibly sit around in my pyjamas and eat an unhealthy amount of chocolate."

"Tomorrow night then. And no objections, missy."

Christine went to her office and made sure that the blinds were properly closed before sitting down. Her head fell into her hands and she sat for several moments like that before turning on her computer and taking a piece of paper out of her in-tray.

* * *

The morning passed all too quickly and at lunchtime Christine was forced to emerge from her office through hunger and not having any food with her. She crossed the road to the corner shop, seized a packet of sandwiches and a bottle of water as well as the daily newspaper before returning to the office, reading intently about the political dramatics of the week as she crossed the office floor. She was distracted however by the grating sound of Carlotta's laugh. She was chatting with Sorelli and several other people as they communed around the coffee machine.

"Yes, I was with someone last night. We got on really well." She was saying. Christine stopped and Carlotta caught sight of her. With a smirk, she turned back to the group and said, "I think he's going to call me today to meet up again. There was… _electricity_. I can definitely see this going somewhere."

"You do?" Christine asked, an eyebrow lifted.

Carlotta turned to look at her with all the attitude of a Hollywood actress throwing a diva tantrum.

"Yes. I do." She said with enough determination to make the rest of the group look at Christine, sensing that something was going on behind the scenes. Christine looked incredibly unthreatened.

"I don't think so."

"And why might that be?" Carlotta said, folding her arms in front of her. Christine shrugged.

"A couple of things really. The first being that you were _clearly_ a rebound."

"What?" Carlotta snorted. "Oh, _please_."

"Well, seeing as how he had tried to tell me that he cared for me the day before, I think that might have something to do with it. And I can tell you now, he is not going to call you." Christine said, walking on.

Carlotta glared at her.

"Like you'd have any idea." She spat. Christine looked around and put a hand on her office door.

"Carlotta, he left the country this morning. Funny, since you were getting on _so_ well, you'd have thought that he'd have mentioned it to you." She shrugged. "Oh well."

Carlotta stared as her office door closed. The group looked at her for a reaction. Meg grinned.

"Wow. I guess there's someone on the planet that doesn't instantly fall down at your feet, Carlotta. Who'd have thought it?"

* * *

Erik sat in an armchair, watching the fire flicker under the mantelpiece. In his hand was a glass, amber liquid glinting in the unsteady light. He looked at it briefly before placing the glass onto a table and glancing out of the window that showed the night time sky over Paris.

He had been here for a week and still he could not forget what he had done. Could not forget her. His eyes lifted to the music box placed on the mantelpiece. The soft, kind eyes of the monkey gazed back, cymbals poised to play. Erik sighed and got to his feet, walking across to the desk. He sat down again and pulled out a piece of paper.

**Dear Christine,**

**It has been a week since I saw you last. And in that time I have thought of many things to say. But I am afraid that if I say them to you, it will only serve to drive you further from me. And that is something that I cannot bear. **

**I once told you that I could not promise to tell you what had happened in my past. If I am fortunate enough to be close enough to you to tell you, I shall. I promise it now. **

**There are so many things that I regret in this lifetime. I had hoped that you would not become one of them. But it appears that I am forbidden to be near the one person in this world that I would want to be with. **

**I hope that you will never see beneath the mask and discover the face that matches the man you ran from.**

**Christine – I am sorry. I can only offer to you what I have to give and I fear that even that if of little value. I offer my love.**

**Yours**

**Erik.**

He watched the ink soak into the paper and folded it carefully. And then he reached into the drawer of a desk and pulled out a small box. He opened it, revealing several more unsent letters. The newest one joined them. Erik looked at the secret words and then closed the lid, put the box back into the drawer and stood. He picked up his glass, observed the liquid within, and then drained it.

* * *

The song that Erik had left for Christine was one that puzzled her. As she poured over it for what felt like the thousandth time, she tried to uncover the possible reasons behind the words. It was dated the day she had found Carlotta at his apartment. That meant that he had either written it before she had seen them or after.

Christine imagined that it was written after he had confirmed that he was leaving. So many little words that could mean so many enormous things.

_Think of me_

_Think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine me_

_Trying too hard to_

_Put you from my mind_

Was that how he woke? Did he rise each day, thinking of her? Christine chewed her fingernail as she read on.

_Recall those days_

_Look back on all those times_

_Think of the things we'll never do_

There was regret behind the words. To a certain extent, Christine wondered if the song was meant to make her feel guilty. Imagine what we could have had, Christine, if you hadn't run like you did. And yet, for some reason, Christine didn't feel so bad. She had at first but now she was… it was hard to describe. It was almost peaceful. As though she knew that one day Erik would come back and then they would be able to talk about all this and perhaps things would go on as they had before. Or even change for the better. Call it a woman's intuition, call it a lucky guess, call it sixth sense, or whatever. But Christine knew, in her gut, that things would get better eventually.

She put the paper down and looked at the clock. She had only just gotten in from work. It had been a Hellish day. Carlotta, upon discovering that what she had said about Erik was true, had been going out of her way to make life difficult for Christine. On top of that, a virus had attacked the network, wiping a lot of work from everyone's computers. Christine was grateful that she had a lot of her files on her home computer. But not everyone had been so lucky. Sorelli had lost everything and had had to start from scratch on her designs.

Christine was supposed to be meeting Meg for drinks that evening at Club Garnier, it being Friday night. She showered, pulled on some clothes and picked up a handbag. As she pulled her door shut, she glanced at apartment 5a.

"Hey Erik. Just going out for a bit with Meg. Don't wait up." She muttered. All too often, she found herself wishing the door good morning or goodnight. It was rather depressing, really.

* * *

She met Meg in the lounge room of Club Garnier. Meg had already bought the first round of drinks. Christine sipped hers and Meg said,

"Matt wants to know if you want to come to his birthday next Saturday. He's renting the bar room here for the evening and since I don't know many of his friends he said to invite someone."

"Meg, who is Matt's best friend?"

"Stuart."

"What else is Stuart?" Christine asked.

"Your ex. Oh, c'mon, Chris!" Meg pushed her lips into a pout. "For me? Think about what a good friend I've been for you this past month!"

Christine glared at her.

"I _hate_ it when you use emotional blackmail."

"It's only because you'd say no otherwise." Meg smiled. "So that's a yes? Great! I'll tell Matt later."

Ten minutes later, Christine went up to the bar to buy them both another drink. A guy was sat on a barstool, drinking a pint and chatting with the bartender. As Christine dug some change out of her purse, he looked at her.

"Hi." He said, with a sort of half-grin. Christine looked at him briefly before returning the greeting with no enthusiasm. He lifted his eyebrows.

"You seem rather down."

"Hmm."

"Want to talk about it?"

Christine looked at him flatly.

"OK. About a month ago I had a boyfriend and was very good friends with my next door neighbour. Then I finally admitted to myself that I didn't love my boyfriend and probably never would, found out that my neighbour was in love with me, he tried to kiss me, I ran away, then I broke up with my boyfriend, decided to give it a go with the neighbour only to find him with one of my co-workers who I hate. Since then I haven't seen my ex-boyfriend, my neighbour has left the country and I'm spending my Friday night with my friend Meg over there, who insists on me coming out in case I turn into some sort of social recluse and end up killing myself." She put on a smile, picking up the drinks. "Have a good night. Try the house cocktail, it's really good."

She walked back to Meg, leaving the man in a state of extreme confusion. Meg looked at her.

"You've been reading 'How to make friends and influence people' again, haven't you?"

"It just isn't sinking in." Christine said dryly.

* * *

Christine walked home afterwards, pepper spray in her pocket. No chances. She turned into Gaston Place and went to the door of the apartment building. It was cold for March and she hurried, wanting to get into her warm bed.

She went to type in the security code and then noticed a small bundle curled up by the door. Christine frowned and bent to examine it. The bundle moved and she realised it was a cat. It looked up at her with large yellow eyes, shivering. Christine stood up again and sighed.

"Shoo, cat."

Instead of shoo-ing, the cat decided to uncurl and rub against her legs. Christine stepped back.

"No. Go on, go home." The cat sat, staring up at her, tail flicking from side to side. It was a raggedy creature, rather pathetic looking and scrawny. Christine doubted that it had had a good meal in a while.

"Why me? There has to be somewhere better for you to go." Christine told it. "I don't want a cat."

The cat continued to stare. Christine groaned and said,

"OK. Fine. Just stop staring at me." She opened the door and the cat followed her inside. In the elevator he sat patiently by her side. Christine glanced at it and couldn't help giving a smile as it watched the doors, waiting for them to open. He followed her to the door of 5b and waited patiently as she opened the door.

Christine went into the kitchen to find something for him to eat. He leapt up onto the surface and watched as she grilled some chicken.

"This is for both of us, OK? Don't go getting greedy. And you're not having spicy sauce on yours." Christine said firmly. As the chicken cooked, she went to the fridge and took out some milk. Pouring some into a bowl, she put it onto the surface. The cat began to drink, his little pink tongue lapping at the white liquid. Christine absently stroked his fur. He was a tabby, with grey, black and white streaks. She could feel his ribs through the fur and his coat was knotted and matted in places.

"I'll give you a good clean up after dinner." She said. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you though. I really don't want a cat but you don't look like you've got anywhere else to go. And I've got an annoying little conscience that's stopping me from just sending you on your way, Cat."

Cat meowed and Christine went to finish cooking the chicken. Once they had both eaten, Cat, looking rather satisfied, his belly bulging slightly, leapt onto the armchair by the fireplace and watched Christine. She dug around in a drawer until she found on an old hairbrush.

"Come here, Cat." She called. He stalked across to her and she lifted him onto her lap, brushing at the knots. He waited patiently as she tugged at his fur, occasionally giving her an annoyed look that clearly said _is this really necessary?_

"I'm going to go and do some work. Keep yourself occupied and don't mess the apartment up." Christine told the cat firmly. He gave her a discerning look and then followed her into the study and sat by the computer, watching as she edited Jammes' latest efforts. It was a good piece and was a definite improvement on her earlier work.

"See this bit here? She's obviously been using the new program and it shows." Christine said to Cat, who looked at her, blinking slowly.

* * *

Cat stayed for the night and when Christine went to work the next morning, he followed her outside and walked away, tail flicking from side to side. Christine watched him go before setting off to work.

"Morning, Christine." Meg said, passing her a cup of coffee. "How are you?"

"Fine. Spent a night in with the cat."

"…You don't have a cat."

"I do now. He adopted me." Christine said matter-of-factly. "But he wandered off this morning, so maybe I don't have a cat after all."

Meg looked at her in confusion and Christine smiled.

"Forget it."

"Happily. We've got a Hawthorn meeting this meaning. Mr Khan is coming in. You, me, Carlotta, Sorelli and Firmin in the boardroom at ten."

"No problem." Christine said absently, going to her office.

* * *

**Dear Christine,**

**I heard from Nadir this afternoon. He said that he saw you at a meeting today on the concert. I am glad that you are doing well. I hope…**

**I'm not entirely sure of what to say. I find myself thinking of you far too often. I believe you would very much love the Paris opera house. It is a beautiful building. I hope one day to bring you here to see an opera. I don't know which one. But it is an experience that must not be denied on any account. **

**Stay safe. Be happy.**

**Yours**

**Erik.**

**

* * *

**

**Dear Christine,**

**I wonder sometimes if I am going mad. Is it possible to be driven mad simply by thinking of another person? I wonder… **

**I have been working harder at the opera everyday. You know which one. I swore never to let anyone hear it. But it is growing near to completion. At least, the music is. After this I shall design sets and costumes and everything else, as though it were going to be performed. It never shall, though.**

**The thing I find most extraordinary is that I have found myself altering parts to fit your voice. There is one particular song, a duet, that I hear being performed by you. It is strange to think like that, isn't it? But you are my Aminta. If ever this will be sung, it shall only ever be sung by you and none other.**

**Yours**

**Erik.**

**

* * *

**

**Dear Christine,**

**I miss you.**

**

* * *

**

**A/N: Not sure about this chapter. At least it's not as over the top as the previous two! Anyway, hope everyone had an awesome Christmas and I'll try and get the next chapter up soon, OK?**

** Oh, and you're in for a treat! Because my dear, darling friend IheartPOTO has been doing phanart! She did some for 'From Heaven's Mind' and now she's come up with pictures of Carlotta, Meg and Stuart for this story as well. Just piece together the link to view!**

**  
www . freewebs . com / artfanatic07 / fanart . htm  
**

**Love**

**Katie **


	18. Complications In Life

**The Girl Next Door**

"The party starts at eight, but just show up at any time." Meg said as she and Christine left work on Friday afternoon.

"Casual or dress-up?"

"Bit of both. Casually dressed-up."

"That's really helpful, Meg. Thanks." Christine said pointedly. Meg grinned.

"No problem. See you later!"

Christine rolled her eyes and walked home, desperately wishing that she had been able to think up a believable excuse to get out of Matt's birthday party that night. No luck. She walked up the steps to Gaston place and found Cat waiting patiently by the door.

"Hello Cat. Good day?" Christine asked. Cat meowed and followed her inside. Everyday he was waiting by the door as she came home. He spent the night in the apartment and then disappeared as she set off to work the next morning.

Christine made tea and poured some milk out for Cat. It had occurred to her to come up with a slightly more original name but Cat seemed to suit him far better than Tiddles or Fluffy. He curled up on her lap, purring as she stroked his fur whilst watching TV. He definitely looked better for the attention he received. He was beginning to put weight on again and his fur was growing glossy and thick. Christine had taken him to vets earlier in the week and once she'd made sure that he was alright, had bought a collar, with her telephone number on it. At least this way he'd have someone to look after him. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she liked the company he provided.

After picking out some smart jeans and a shirt to wear that night, Christine washed her face in the sink in the bathroom. Cat hovered outside the bathroom door and then led her to the kitchen, meowing for food. Christine opened a packet of cat food for him and put a ready meal into the microwave. She couldn't be bothered to cook that night. She watched as Cat licked his bowl out and then looked at her expectantly. She put his plate in the dishwasher and he rubbed his face against her. Christine smiled and he leapt into her arms, paws resting on one shoulder. She hugged him gently.

"It's nice having you around, Cat." _Meow_. "I'm going out tonight, but you can stay here. As long as you're good and don't claw up the furniture or anything."

Cat gave her a disdainful look and stalked away. Christine could _swear_ that he understood her.

* * *

"Hi Christine." Matt grinned at her as she entered Club Garnier. Christine smiled and held out a wrapped gift. 

"Happy Birthday, Matt."

"Cheers. Meg's around somewhere. Open bar, help yourself to a drink."

Christine walked into the bar. It was filled with people, Matt's friends and colleagues. Christine looked around for Meg, failed to find her and went to the bar. With a vodka and coke, she sat on one of the stools and wondered how long she'd have to stay for before she could leave politely.

She sipped her drink and let her mind wander to the Heaven and Hell concert. It was now only three weeks away. Most of the work was finished, apart from decorations. Christine had contacted several outside companies for estimations on price and had forwarded the information to Nadir Khan to make a decision.

"Hey Christine!" Meg said, collapsing into a stool beside her. "Hot, isn't it? I'll have a gin and tonic." She told the bartender, who went to fetch it for her.

"Enjoying yourself?" Christine smiled.

"Absolutely! Matt's friends are such a laugh." Meg drank thirstily and then grinned at her. "Wipe that look off your face! You're here to enjoy yourself."

"I am."

"Sure. Now say it less convincingly and start crying for dramatic effect." Meg said cynically. But Christine wasn't listening. Meg turned to look at what she had seen.

Stuart had just arrived and was laughing with Matt by the door. He patted Matt on the shoulder and then looked around. Christine turned quickly back to the bar before they made eye contact. Meg breathed out heavily.

"Christine-"

"I haven't seen him since we broke up, OK? It's just a little awkward. I'd like to get through this evening with minimal confrontation. Besides, he's probably seeing someone." Christine pointed out.

"He's not. Matt told me."

"Well… not the point." Christine muttered.

"Fine. Be all secluded. I'm going to go and mingle."

"Mingle away." Christine said. Meg hopped off her barstool, drink in hand, and wandered off to meet people.

Christine flicked her glass, listening to the _tink_ it made as her nail connected with it. She finished the drink and was just wondering if it would be possible to sneak out when she heard someone arrive at the bar next to her.

"Pint of Guinness." Stuart said. Christine looked at him briefly and he noticed for the first time that she was there. He looked at her in surprise.

"Christine… hi."

"Hi Stuart."

"Meg invited you?"

"Yeah. Said she'd be lonely because she doesn't know anyone." Christine said and nodded towards her friend, who was laughing with a large group of people and chattering away. Stuart grinned in spite of himself.

"She's abandoned you, huh?"

"Of course." Christine sighed and held up her hand to order another drink. Stuart waited until she had it and then said,

"How… how have you been?"

"Oh… not bad, I suppose. Working hard." Christine said, a little awkward. She assumed that Stuart already knew about Erik leaving the country. Meg could not keep her mouth shut.

"Same here." He gulped at his drink and then said, "I'm going to say hi to people."

"OK. See you later." Christine smiled weakly.

Stuart disappeared into the crowd and she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead as she drained her glass. The barman looked at her.

"Ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

"Have another drink." He said sympathetically.

After two hours of the party, Christine had had enough. She waved goodbye to Meg and escaped before the blonde woman could force her to stay. As she strolled through the cold night air, Christine imagined wondered what _he_ was doing right now.

* * *

"Will you come in and organise the decorating people? We will, of course, pay extra to cover the time. But you know what is going on and these people haven't a clue." Nadir asked. Christine smiled, holding the phone to her ear. 

"Of course. When do they start?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. If you can just give them an idea of what to do and start them off, and then check on it at the end of the week, that would be extremely helpful."

"That's fine. I'll get there at about one and see what's going on."

"Thank you, Christine. You're a wonder." Nadir said warmly. Christine smiled.

"No problem, Nadir. See you tomorrow."

She put the phone down and pulled on her coat. As she left her office, rifling through some paper, Carlotta bumped into her. With nothing more than a sneer, Carlotta moved past, stepping on several pieces of paper. Christine made a rude sign behind her back and shuffled the papers back together. Meg bent to help her.

"She's still giving you a hard time?"

"Of course." Christine said, straightening. "Well, I'd better get home and finish this up. I'm heading to the Hawthorn tomorrow; Nadir wants me to sort out the decorations for the concert."

"OK then." They began to walk to the stairs and Meg looked at her sideways, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Meg. It's good that this concert is taking up so much of my time."

"But it's not good that it's almost directly related to… well-"

"You can say his name, Meg, I won't pass out." Christine said deprecatingly.

"Fine, to Erik. I mean, you really should be distancing yourself and working on the concert means you're just clinging to it. Especially with working with Nadir Khan so much."

"Nadir is the manager of the Hawthorn; I _have_ to work with him. And anyway, we've never even spoken about Erik." Christine said calmly. "I _am_ capable of being professional about this, believe it or not."

* * *

Cat was waiting by the door as usual. Christine let them both in and they went up to floor 5. They stopped at the second floor to let in an older woman who lived there. She looked in surprise at Cat. 

"What a sweet cat!"

"He adopted me." Christine said. The woman smiled.

"They do that, don't they? What's his name?"

"Cat. Not very original, I know."

The fifth floor doors opened and the woman watched in amazement as, without another word, both cat and woman moved down the corridor.

* * *

Christine gave Cat a drink and then sat at the computer to finish typing up the details of the concert for the company files. Firmin insisted on everything being recorded with utmost detail. Cat stalked into the study and took his usual place by the computer screen, where he sat licking his paw and cleaning his face. 

After a couple of hours of work, Christine turned the computer off and looked at Cat.

"Do you want something to eat? I am starving." They went to the kitchen and Christine opened some cat food for him before pouring some pasta sauce into a pan and stirring it as it heated. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat in front of the television to watch the evening news as she ate. Cat was now curled up on the sofa beside her, sleeping peacefully. By ten thirty Christine had finished everything that she had to do.

Her eyes went to the music placed on the piano. She crossed and began to play _Think of Me_.

* * *

She was dreaming. But it was such a _nice_ dream. Christine smiled as she rose from her bed and went to the living room, knowing what she would find there. 

Erik was sat at the piano, playing some piece that she didn't know. But he stopped as she came in and smiled a little.

"You've finally woken up." He said softly. Christine smiled, almost shyly.

"I was… I was waiting for you. I think I fell asleep."

"What makes you think that?" He asked, getting to his feet.

"You're in Paris. This is a dream." Christine said.

Erik laughed lightly, his velvety voice rushing over her. It was like the sensation of silk against bare skin and made her skin flush. His eyes settled on hers.

"Maybe I am in Paris. Maybe this is a dream and everything will fade away in a few moments." He said quietly. "Shouldn't we make the most of the time we have?"

Christine nodded, unable to even _think_ about speaking and interrupting the moment. Erik's hands slid up her arms, onto her shoulders, over her neck and cupped her cheeks, drawing her close to him. Christine couldn't breathe.

She didn't need to.

Erik's lips touched hers and she seemed to jump with electricity. Instantly, Erik's arms slid around her and held her tight to him. Her arms went around his neck, clinging desperately to him. And, to her utter mortification, she found tears rolling down her cheeks. He softly kissed them away.

"Why are you crying?" He whispered, his vivid green eyes gentle. Christine swallowed hard.

"I don't want you to go away."

"I'm not going away."

"You will! Everyone always does!" She sobbed, pressing her face into his chest. His chin rested against the top of her head.

"I won't. I promise, Christine. I won't leave you."

And then he was kissing her, so sweetly, so intensely, it was like liquid fire rushing through her veins, filling her with longing and ecstasy, more powerful than anything she had ever known.

And then Cat leapt onto her pillow, jolting her from the dream. Christine glared at the animal and sat up, pushing her curls away from her face. She hugged her knees to her and sighed heavily before lying back down, rolling over, and going back to far less pleasant sleep.

* * *

"Monsieur Destler?" The young woman said, waiting for his attention. Erik looked up briefly. Her name was Adele and she had been assigned as a sort of personal assistant to him, something that appeared to terrify the poor girl. 

"Oui, Adele?"

"There is a telephone call for you. Monsieur Khan." She said quickly, her French voice lilting as she spoke in English.

"Merci Adele." Erik rose and walked to the office. The telephone was waiting for him. He lifted the receiver.

"Erik Destler speaking."

"Are you coming back for the concert?"

"And hello to you, Nadir."

"I have no time to waste on pleasantries, Erik." Nadir snapped. "The concert is tomorrow night and three lights just blew out, the orchestra isn't here yet and the decorations aren't finished."

Erik closed his eyes in horror at the idea of so much disruption and said calmly,

"No. I will not be coming to the concert."

"Erik, most of the pieces being performed are yours!"

"I am aware of that, having compiled the programme. But I am far too busy to come rushing back. I trust that you will make it a memorable event."

"Not me. Christine Daae perhaps, the woman is a miracle worker. She has completed the organisation and advertising for this almost single-handedly."

"Then I hope you pay her accordingly. Is that all?" Erik said dismissively. He could almost hear Nadir's frustration.

"Yes, that's all."

"Then goodbye."

Erik put the phone down and turned to see Adele waiting by the door.

"Monsieur Karon is asking for you. There is a problem with the ballet in act three."

"…Fine."

* * *

Christine sat in her office at lunchtime, the radio fixed to the local station and her Blake book in her hand as she chewed on sandwiches. Meg and Sorelli had invited her out but she had declined, wanting some peace and quiet. 

Her copy of Blake had become something of a security blanket of late. She took it just about everywhere, it being a small enough book to fit comfortably in her bag without being obtrusive. She read and reread the poems, admiring Blake's subtle cynicisms and comments on God and society. And yet she found Erik lurking in so many of those pages.

The one she liked to relate to him most was 'The Tyger'. Something about such a mysterious and powerful creature seemed so similar to the hidden strengths and depths of Erik Destler that Christine could not help but imagine him when she read it.

**In what distant deeps or skies.  
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!  
On what wings dare he aspire?  
What the hand, dare seize the fire!**

Burning eyes and angelic wings, hands reaching to seize something as dangerous, yet as beautiful as fire – it was Erik all over.

Christine closed the book and ran her fingers over the worn cover. There was a knock at the door and Firmin looked in.

"Are you busy?"

"Not right at this moment." Christine said, putting the book down. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing with the new job."

"Loving every minute." Christine smiled. "It'll be a lot easier once the concert is over."

"Ah yes, that's tonight isn't it?" Firmin asked, his bushy moustache shifting as he spoke.

"It is indeed."

"Are you going?"

"Yes, I bought a ticket last week. I want to make sure that everything works out well." Christine said. Firmin nodded and said,

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying the job. Although, it'd be a lot easier if you and Carlotta weren't sniping at each other when you think I'm looking." He looked at her pointedly. Christine smiled.

"At the risk of sounding like a five year old, she started it."

"Hmm. Anyway, I'll see you later. Enjoy the concert."

* * *

Of course, things never rang as smoothly as planned. The concert was due to start at eight. Nadir phoned Christine at a quarter to seven, begging her to hurry as there was some drama going on with the publicity procedure. 

Christine tugged on some smart shoes and was putting some earrings on as she ran for the door. At that moment the telephone began to ring. Christine glanced at her watch. No time, she'd have to let the machine get it.

Two rings after she had slammed the door behind her, Erik hung up.

He stared at the telephone and rubbed his jaw, wondering what had possessed him to call her. Of course she wouldn't be in. It was a Friday night; she would be out with her friends. What did he think? That she was going to be sat indoors, waiting for him to call her? He sighed heavily and looked at the monkey.

"I am a fool." He said plainly.

* * *

Once Christine had sorted out the procedure, Nadir looked at her with immense gratitude. 

"I don't know how I managed without you."

"You had Erik to intimidate people into doing things right." She teased. Nadir laughed.

"That's about right. Come, I'll show you to your seat."

Christine pulled out her ticket but Nadir took it from her and dropped it into a bin.

"I have upgraded your seat."

"Nadir, you didn't have to-"

"Call it a thank you for the hell I have put you through about this concert." Nadir said politely. This was utter rubbish, as he had been nothing but a gentleman. Christine doubted that he could be anything _but_ a gentleman. He gestured for a steward to join them. "Please escort Miss Daae to box five. I believe it will be unoccupied this evening. Enjoy the concert."

He disappeared to organise the final details and Christine followed the steward up several flights of stairs, following a plush carpet until they reached a pair of heavy black velvet curtains.

"Box five, Miss Daae." The steward bowed and held back the curtain. Uncertainly, Christine stepped inside and was greeted by a prime view of the stage. Truly, this was the best seat in the house! How had it not been snapped up immediately?

Her answer arrived a moment later when she sat down and saw a small pile of programmes, as well as a pair of gloves and a notebook and pen. Presumably this box always had the same occupant, so comfortable in their assurance of getting it whenever they wanted that they left personal possessions in it. Curious, Christine reached for the notebook. She immediately recognised the handwriting and replaced it.

This was Erik's box.

* * *

In all honesty, the concert could not have gone better. Every cue was perfect, the music was sumptuous and the audience was delighted. Christine stood to one side, listening in pleasure as she listened to the comments of the passing people. All were glowing compliments of the music. She rather wished that Erik was present to hear this admiration of his work. 

Nadir was so busy talking to people, Christine simply waved to him as he left. He lifted a hand in gratitude and she walked home, feeling thoroughly self-satisfied. All her hard work had finally come to fruition. She had every right to feel pleased with herself.

Cat was sprawled across her bed when she got back. Christine lifted him into a hug.

"It was _brilliant_, Cat. It went perfectly!" She said happily. "Now I'm going to sleep for the whole weekend. Don't wake me up, OK?"

Cat yowled quietly and went back to sleep.

* * *

"Just take it easy for the week, Christine." Firmin told her on Monday morning. Christine smiled. 

"Really?"

"Yes, you're running yourself ragged. Just stick to editing for a while, OK?"

"You're the boss." Christine saluted him, leaving his office. Meg joined her by the coffee machine.

"Have you seen Sorelli?" She asked.

"No, why?"

"She didn't show up for work today." Meg said, brow furrowed. "She usually calls me if she's going to be sick but she didn't. I tried to ring her just now but there was no reply."

"If she's feeling really bad, perhaps she just wanted to stay in bed."

"Maybe…"

Christine put a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"We'll see if she comes in tomorrow. If not, we'll go over to her place and see if everything's alright. OK?"

"Good plan." Meg agreed, heading back to her desk. Christine went to her office and found a small pile of editing had already grown on her desk. She took the top folder and opened it, her mind already turned to work.

* * *

By lunchtime the next day, Sorelli still hadn't arrived in the offices. Christine and Meg drove across to her house during their break, trying to think up sensible scenarios that might have caused Sorelli to miss work. 

Meg knocked on the door and they waited for a reply. There wasn't one. Christine peered in through the window.

"The television is on. She must be home."

"Sorelli? It's us, Meg and Chrissie. Let us in." Meg called through the letterbox. After a couple of moments the door opened a crack and Sorelli's face appeared.

"What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you. You didn't call in for work." Meg said. Sorelli looked away and Christine frowned.

"Sorelli, have you been crying?"

Sorelli walked away, leaving the door open. Meg and Christine exchanged a worried glance before following her inside. Sorelli was crouched on the sofa, staring at the floor. Christine knelt in front of her.

"Sorelli, sweetie, what happened?"

"I…" Sorelli sniffed and suddenly burst into tears. Christine hastily hugged her whilst Meg found tissues. Once they had mopped her up a bit, Sorelli swallowed hard.

"I'm… I'm pregnant."

They stared at her. Meg spoke first, once she had come out of her shock.

"Wow… do you… I mean… who's…?"

"Steven. The guy from communications. We've been seeing each for about a month. No one at the office really knows, we didn't want to make a big deal of it." Sorelli mumbled.

"Does he know?"

"No one does. I don't know what to do…" Sorelli started to cry again. Christine rubbed her back slowly.

"It'll be OK."

"I can't take care of a baby! I can't even take care of myself enough to not get accidentally pregnant!" Sorelli pointed out. Meg stroked her hair softly.

"You really need to talk to Steven."

"I _can't_. It's all my fault…"

"Sorelli, I may not have been in the game for quite a while, but I do know it takes two people to make a baby." Christine pointed out. Sorelli looked at her, eyes watering.

"It _is_ my fault. We were using protection, but I forgot to go to the doctors and pick up my pills. But… we were using condoms! I didn't think that-"

"Calm down." Meg said firmly. "Don't go getting all hysterical about this."

Christine went into the kitchen to make tea. When she returned, Meg was talking in a very sensible voice. She sounded very calm and sure.

"You do need to talk to Steven. But this is ultimately your decision. Being a mother isn't easy but I'll be here for you."

"So will I." Christine assured her.

"And if you decide to have a termination, we'll take care of you, OK?" Meg brushed Sorelli's hair back from her face. "So no more tears, no more panicking. Call Steven tonight, invite him over and explain everything. Let him decide what he wants to do and then you can make your decision based partly on what he says."

Sorelli looked from one to the other and bit her trembling lip.

"You… you guys are amazing…" She said, looking on the verge of tears.

"Meg, do you want to stay with Sorelli for the afternoon?" Christine asked. "I'll call Firmin and tell him."

"I'll stay. No arguments." Meg said, looking pointedly at Sorelli. She nodded and looked at Christine,

"Will you… will you tell Firmin? I don't want the whole office knowing, but he needs to know."

"Of course I will." Christine said. "I'll call a taxi and go back to the office now."

* * *

Firmin, as Christine and Meg had been, was extremely shocked. Christine hadn't given him details, such as who the father was, but it was still a big surprise. 

"Well… I'll pop by at some point and see how she is." Firmin said eventually. "Does she know what she's going to do yet?"

"No, she hasn't even told the father yet."

"I see. I assume I don't need to tell you not to say anything to anyone."

"Of course not." Christine nodded.

* * *

She stayed at home that night, idly watching television. She wasn't really up to doing anything strenuous at the moment. Cat was clawing at the cat post she had bought at the weekend. Christine watched him for a few minutes before sighing. 

When had life become so complicated?

**A/N: I really rather like the characters of Meg and Sorelli, so I'm just trying to flesh them out a bit. Several people were asking for a dream for Christine. So here it is. Another huggle to IheartPOTO for more phanart! The website address is in chapter 17.  
**

**I keep getting messages from people, saying that various chapters aren't working. They are for me, so I'm not sure what's going on. Maybe it'd be better to ask the ff. net people? **

**I know, Christine and Erik are still separated. I'll try and remedy that soon, OK?**

**Love**

**Katie**


	19. Standing In My Doorway

**The Girl Next Door**

By the time the weekend arrived, Christine was exhausted. Between keeping on top of work, she and Meg had been taking turns in looking after Sorelli. Sorelli had told Steven about the baby and had instantly told her that she was on her own.

Meg had then shouted at him for a solid fifteen minutes in the middle of the office before sending him on his way with a good, hard slap. The bruise still hadn't begun to fade after two days. Firmin was apparently turning a blind eye. Steven had made an official complaint and Firmin had sidled up to Meg's desk and said in a deadpanned voice,

"That was very wrong of you. Don't do it again." And that was all that had happened about that.

Sorelli returned to work on Friday morning.

"I've got a doctors appointment tomorrow." She told Meg and Christine at lunchtime. "I'm going to keep it. I couldn't live with myself if I had an abortion. A few years ago I probably would have. But, you know, I've got my own house, I've got a good-paying job and I'm self-reliant. Now's as good a time as any to have a baby."

"Good for you. Don't worry, Auntie Meg and Auntie Christine will be around to help." Meg assured her with a smile. Sorelli laughed.

"Thank God! Can you imagine me as a mother?"

"I can and it's a frightening notion." Christine teased.

"Sorelli, nice to see you back at work." Carlotta said, sashaying over to them and pointedly ignoring Christine. "I guess you'll be leaving us soon?"

"No. I'm not leaving just because I'm having a baby. I take the last two weeks of the pregnancy off, four months after that and then I'm finding a babysitter." Sorelli said. Carlotta's perfect blue eyes widened.

"Oh, how brave of you! I'd _never_ be able to cope with the hassle of a baby!"

"No, that'd mean taking care of someone other than yourself." Christine said sardonically. Carlotta turned on her.

"Like _you'd_ have any idea. You'd be lucky to get any guy to stay in your company long enough to even _get_ pregnant!"

Christine opened her mouth, utterly outraged.

"Ladies, no problem is there?" Firmin said, looking at them pointedly. Christine and Carlotta both beamed at him.

"Of course not, Richard."

"Everything's fine."

"Good." He moved on and Christine turned back to Carlotta.

"Let's get one thing straight, Carlotta. You know nothing about me and frankly I can't even stand being within a metre of you. So don't even try to comment on my life, because you know nothing."

"You act as if I'd _want_ to know about you." Carlotta spat. "When I couldn't give a damn about your meaningless little existence. Just stay the hell out of my way."

She stormed off and Meg whistled.

"Wow, Christine. I don't think that was such a good idea."

"She can't do anything to me." Christine said darkly. "And I would just _love_ to see her try."

She looked at Sorelli.

"So, do you want a boy or a girl?"

"I think I'd quite like a girl. But I haven't really thought about it."

"Oh, you can name her Meg after me!"

"I wouldn't do that to an innocent child." Sorelli smirked.

* * *

Erik watched as the ballerinas danced elegantly across the stage and Monsieur Karon looked at him for approval. After a few moments, Erik nodded. 

"It's coming together well."

Karon began to rant in French about this, that and the other. Erik listened patiently and then said,

"Monsieur, I believe that you will be capable of taking care of the opera from hereon in. I have already been here for three months. It is time for me to return to England."

"Monsieur Destler! I was under the impression that you would be staying until the opening night." Karon said, surprised. Erik smiled slightly.

"You are more than able to handle this. Thank you."

He turned and walked to the door, leaving a stunned director in his wake. Adele appeared at his elbow.

"Monsieur Destler?"

"Oui, Adele?"

"You are not coming back?"

"No."

"…She waits for you?" Erik looked at the girl in astonishment. He had never made any mention that there was a 'she' in England. Adele smiled knowingly.

"_L'amour a une prise forte sur nous, non_?"

She disappeared and Erik stared after her before making his way to the exit. He walked the distance to his apartment. It took no longer than twenty minutes and it was preferable to attempting to fight the Parisian traffic. He hadn't brought that much with him. Clothes, mostly, and music. A few other items as well, but he didn't have that much to pack overall.

He spent the rest of the afternoon putting things away, leaving some clothes for him to wear the next day and then he reached the monkey box. He held it gently in his hands, examining the details which he already knew off by heart from countless hours of examination.

"Three months of relief from my company. I doubt she will even wish to have me nearby anymore." He said softly, wrapping the box in bubble-wrap and placing him in a box. "And I should not blame her for feeling such."

* * *

"Hello baby. It's Christine again. I've got to keep talking to you, otherwise Meg will be your favourite aunt and I just can't have that. I hope you understand." Christine said to Sorelli's stomach. Sorelli was lying on the sofa at her house, reading a magazine whilst Christine held a conversation with the month old foetus. It was Friday afternoon and they were gathered in Sorelli's house. 

Meg came in from the kitchen with tea and looked at her suspiciously.

"Are you manipulating the baby again?"

"No!"

"Guys, it's only a month old. It's not even the size of a hand yet, it definitely doesn't care which of you is talking to it." Sorelli pointed out.

"It's the principle of it!" Meg said haughtily. Christine glanced at her watch.

"Better get home. Cat is going to get all hissy if I don't feed him soon." She leant close to the stomach again. "Remember – you like Christine the best."

Meg swiped at her head but Christine ducked past and smiled.

"I'll do dinner for us tomorrow night."

"Look, you two, I can still cook. You don't need to supervise me twenty-four, seven." Sorelli said, putting her magazine down. Meg lifted a cynical eyebrow.

"Last time we didn't supervise you, this happened." She patted Sorelli's belly. "We're taking no chances."

"Oh, thanks for that!"

"You're welcome." Meg glanced at Christine. "Can I call by later to pick up those folders?"

"Sure, I'll be in all evening. I'm planning on having a nice, relaxing evening."

"Cheers, Chris."

Christine set off home. As she walked the half hour to Gaston Place, she began to consider the option of buying a car. She didn't really have a use for it, being within walking distance of most places. But if she was going to be going from Sorelli's to Meg's to work to home all in the same day, as she had been doing for most of the week perhaps it would be worth investing in some sort of vehicle. At this rate, she'd spend a fortune on cabs.

André was outside the door with a repairman, who was crouched on the floor with a screwdriver.

"Good afternoon Mr André." Christine said, stopping. He smiled at her tiredly.

"Miss Daae. Go on in. The door has completely seized up." He glanced at Cat, who was watching the repairman with unblinking eyes. "He's been waiting for quite a while now."

"He's probably sulking with me for being late." Christine smiled. She stepped past and Cat followed her to the elevator. Once Cat was busy with his milk, Christine went into her bedroom, shivering. Apparently the heating had gone too, the whole flat was freezing.

She changed into a pair of torn jeans and woolly jumper, as well as a pair of fluffy bed-socks and went into the living room, turning on the gas fire. Cat perched on the back of the sofa and watched as Christine made herself some hot chocolate and curled up on the sofa with her Blake book, the CD player sending out the soulful tones of Dido.

_Danny is lonely_

_Cos Mary's in India now_

_She said she'd call but_

_That was three weeks ago_

_She left all her things, well_

_Her books and her letters from him_

_And as the sun rises on Mary_

_It sets on him_

Christine half-listened to the lyrics and then turned her attention to the book in her hand. The familiar, friendly words wound themselves around her, creating a sort barrier between her and the rest of the world. She lost herself in poetry that she had read so many times before, her mind catapulting from opinion to opinion as she read Blake's views on poverty, on God, on England, on class and status. She marvelled at how his opinion's changed. In the Songs of Innocence, he had adored nature and God's influence. But when you proceeded to the Songs of Experience he became far more cynical, lost his childlike wonder of the world. It was quite sad, really, how his faith had become lost.

Christine fingered the cross around her neck. It was the same one than she had given to Erik on Christmas Eve, the one that had brought him a little peace. She was glad to have it now. If anyone needed some peace and relief it was her.

Perhaps he did too?

Cat stretched luxuriously and curled into her lap, purring as Christine stroked his ears. The rumble against her made her smile. His needs for happiness were so simple. Food, drink, shelter and love. Those were the most basic requirements for happiness.

"Three out of four isn't bad, I suppose." Christine commented, lifting her book up again. Cat simply continued to purr as Christine caressed his soft fur.

About an hour later there was a knock at the door. It was Meg, Christine realised and called,

"It's open." Without looking up. She drained the last of her hot chocolate and put her book down before turning to lean over the top of the sofa at her friend.

Except it wasn't Meg stood in the doorway.

It was Erik.

* * *

Erik stood outside apartment 5b, clutching the bottle of wine in his hand. For God's sake, he felt like a teenager arriving at his date's house. He lifted his hand and nervously tapped it against the door, half hoping that she wouldn't be in. 

No such luck. He heard her say that the door was open. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. He could see the back of her head, where she was sat on the sofa. She was engrossed in some activity and was moving to put things on the table. And then she turned to look at him.

Had she _always_ been that lovely? It was the first thought that entered his mind before it went completely blank. Her dark eyes had widened and her jaw had dropped in astonishment at the sight of him.

For several long moments they looked at each other. And then a cat jumped up onto the sofa and hissed at this intruder to his home. Erik blinked.

"You have a cat."

He hadn't seen this woman in three months, had spent nearly everyday imagining what it would be like when he finally returned and his first words to her implied that she procured a feline in his absence.

He was moronic beyond all belief.

Christine stood and picked the hissing cat up. It was instantly appeased, although it kept a wary eye on the man in the doorway. She was still staring at him. He wondered what she was thinking. He couldn't possibly have known that what she _was_ thinking was this:

'Erik is back and I'm wearing fluffy socks.'

She took a deep breath.

"…You're back."

"Apparently." There was no sarcasm in it. He was simply stunned and it seemed the obvious thing to say. Christine blinked and then let out a yelp as Cat dug his claws into her arm. She hadn't realised how tightly she'd been holding him. She dropped him and he gave them both a disgusted look before prowling away. Erik took a step forward.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, it's just a scratch." She rolled up her sleeve to examine the scratches. They stood out bright pink against her skin and she glared after the animal. "I don't know why I keep him around."

Erik gave a weak smile and she looked at him, shaking off the shock at seeing him in her doorway.

"When did you get back?"

"About fifteen minutes ago. Here." He handed her the bottle of wine. "A peace offering."

"Thank you." She smiled as she realised that it was chilled. "Proper French wine."

"The best I could find." Erik assured her.

They fell back into silence, looking at each other. And then Christine said,

"Tea?"

"Please." They went into the kitchen and she put the kettle on. Cat was sat on the surface, looking pointedly at his food bowl. Whilst Christine opened a packet of food, Erik held out his hand to the cat. He sniffed it cautiously and then pushed his head against the fingers briefly in a way that clearly said _Fine, we're OK. Just don't expect me to get too friendly._

Unable to bear the awkward silence, Erik said,

"Nadir informed me that the concert went well."

"Yes, it was brilliant." Christine agreed, thankful for the neutrality of the subject. "The music was amazing. Nadir let me sit in your box, I hope that's OK."

"It's not as if I was using it." Erik said with a miniscule smile.

They were putting it off. Both of them knew that eventually they would have to discuss what happened three months previously. Armed with tea, they went back to the living room and sat apart, talking sparsely about safe topics, such as _Il Muto_ and work. Christine brought up Sorelli's pregnancy.

"She's been really brave about it all."

"The father isn't going to be involved?"

"No. He's such an idiot. Meg hit him around the face in the middle of the office when she found out." Christine smiled at the memory. "It was actually quite hilarious. Well, not for him."

"I don't think I would like to get on her wrong side." Erik commented.

"Oh, she can be very dangerous. But most of the time you're fairly safe with her."

God, this was _unbearable_. Christine tapped the edge of her mug uncomfortably and glanced at Erik. His eyes were fixed on the coffee table. She put her cup down.

"Erik, we need to talk." He looked at her in surprise at her forwardness. She smiled. "But not right now. I mean, we're going to have to talk about what happened eventually but for now, can we just go back to how it was? Just for tonight?"

"Happily." Erik said, relieved that she had said something. He had been deliberating on how to break the uncomfortable tension between them. Christine smiled.

"Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"I'll make dinner, you open the wine and we'll pick a film. That'd be a great start."

Erik smiled at her optimism and stood up as Christine went to the kitchen. There was a knock at the door and he went to answer it. Meg Giry stood outside. She looked at him in surprise and then turned around. She looked at the number on the door opposite, then back at the door to 5b, apparently unsure that she had gotten the right apartment. Erik arched an eyebrow and she looked back at him.

"You're in France."

"Not at this moment, I'm not."

"No, I actually noticed that. Christine _does_ still live here, right?"

"She does."

Christine looked out of the kitchen.

"Oh, hi Meg. Come on in. I've got those folders in the study." She disappeared to the other room and returned a moment later with them. Meg grinned at her.

"Thanks. Sorelli wants to know if you want to come to the cinema tomorrow. I'll tell her you're busy, shall I?" She said, with a sideways glance at Erik. Christine rather wanted to slap her, feeling herself go pink.

"You can tell her that I'll be there, as long as you don't choose the film. Now get out of here before I beat you to a pulp."

"You couldn't take me on and you know it. Later." She paused and then grinned before disappearing, "Oh, cute socks, Christine."

Erik couldn't _quite_ bring himself to look Christine in the eye. She appeared to feel very much the same, as she hurried back to the kitchen.

* * *

Erik graciously allowed Christine to choose the film. She opened a drawer of DVD's and pulled one out. 

"Have you seen this?" It was called _Young Frankenstein_. Erik shook his head and she passed him the box as she slipped the disc into the machine. "It's hilarious; I guarantee that you will laugh."

"You think so?" He gave her a smirk and she lifted her eyebrows.

"I _know_ so." She said.

"Well, since you're so confident, I suppose I'll just have to try and prove you wrong."

"Stubborn."

"What was that?"

"Didn't say a word." She announced cheerfully, settling into an armchair. Cat jumped into her lap and sat, watching Erik with large yellow eyes. Erik looked back and asked as the DVD loaded,

"When did he come along?"

"About a week after you left. He was curled up outside the front door and was freezing. He followed me inside and I haven't gotten rid of him yet." Christine said, scratching behind Cat's ears. He tilted his head, his eyes closing lazily in pleasure.

"What's his name?"

"Cat."

"Interesting choice."

"I preferred it to 'Dog'." Christine grinned.

The film began and Erik allowed himself to enjoy the madcap adventures of Doctor Frankenstein and his lunatic accomplices as they attempted to create life from dead body parts.

And, much to Christine's glee, he laughed out loud at one point.

When they had eaten and drunk the bottle of wine (which had been excellent), Erik looked at the time.

"I shall be in the theatre tomorrow. Nadir wishes to recap everything I've missed in the past three months." He rolled his eyes slightly. "What a thrilling experience it shall be."

"Are you going to be doing a new show?"

"I expect see. I believe Nadir has chosen an opera of mine called Hannibal." Erik said, getting to his feet. "No doubt you will soon be receiving a phone call demanding your services on the advertising."

"Thank God, I've been stuck doing editing for ages." Christine smiled.

She walked with him to the door. He looked down at her briefly, wondering what to do now. He settled for touching her hand and making eye contact. Christine smiled and said, as though it had burst out of her,

"I'm glad you're back."

"That would make two of us." He said softly. His fingers squeezed hers for less than a second before he stepped into the corridor.

* * *

"So, the Man in the Sexy Mask is back?" Sorelli grinned as they stood in the lobby of the cinema. Christine rolled her eyes. 

"Alexander Dumas is rolling in his grave for that one."

"Who?"

"…Never mind. And yes, Erik is back."

"What happened after I left?" Meg asked eagerly. Christine shrugged.

"We had dinner and watched a film and then he went home."

"Did he kiss you?"

"No."

"Did you kiss him?" Sorelli put in.

"No!"

"When are you seeing him again?"

"Seeing as he lives less than two metres away, I'll probably see him today." Christine said, looking at the list of films that were playing.

"Christine, you know what we mean." Meg said irritably. Christine sighed.

"I don't know. Probably tomorrow. We're going to… talk about what happened."

"And once all that's out of the way, you can get onto the fun part of making up." Sorelli winked.

Christine gave her an irritable look.

"It's not that simple."

"Probably not. What are we going to see?" Meg said, linking arms with both of them and pulling them towards the ticket booth.

**A/N: And now everything is going backwards, with Christine and Erik back as friends. Friends with hand-touching privileges, heh heh. The bit of French is SUPPOSED to say something like 'Love holds on tightly to all of us', but since I used an online translator, you can very much guarantee that it doesn't say that! The song is Dido's 'Mary's In India' and it's a lovely song. Some people were wondering about the woman in the elevator - she isn't really important. I just like to throw in little bits like that to show that there's a whole world out there and sometimes stuff like that happens that isn't directly related to the main plot.  
**

**This chapter is lovingly dedicated to BrokenFate. She drew me a gorgeous piece of fanart which you can find here:**

**www . deviantart . com / deviation / 26968960 /**

**Give her your appreciation because she is awesome! Also, if you haven't checked out IheartPOTO's stuff, the address is in Chapter 17! I am stunned that people actually bothered to sit down and draw this beautiful art, because of something that _I_ wrote. It's very inspirational! I churned out around 3000 words today for this chapter, just because I was so thrilled by all this art!  
**

**Next chapter soon!**

**Love**

**Katie **


	20. In The Name Of God

**The Girl Next Door**

On Sunday evening Erik invited Christine to apartment 5a. She came with only one condition and Erik agreed to it.

They would tell each other everything and it would be the complete truth.

Erik wanted to go first and Christine promised that she would tell her story the next evening. They sat, with coffee and freshly baked cookies, in Erik's living room and he was silent for a few moments as he collected his thoughts. Christine waited, sat in a comfortable chair and patient for him to begin. This would not be easy for either of them.

"I have two questions for you." She said eventually. Erik seemed almost grateful to her for giving him a starting point.

"Ask them."

"Why Carlotta?" Christine asked, looking him straight in the eye.

Erik felt his heart sink. Why that, of all things? But they had both promised to tell the truth and he was nothing if not a man of his word.

"Because I knew that it would hurt you." He said.

"..Oh."

"I felt… so terrible after what had happened. I knew that I was to blame and I hated the fact. It felt that it would be so much easier to blame you. I wanted to hurt you to make myself feel better so I chose the one person that I thought would hurt you most. And I don't think I can properly convey exactly how sorry I am for what I did."

"Did you… I mean… with her…?" Christine _really_ didn't want to ask but she had to know. Erik shook his head.

"Nothing happened."

"Thank God." Christine muttered. Erik smiled and said,

"What is your other question?"

"Who painted that picture?"

Two excellent questions. Both ones that Erik was reluctant to answer. Christine was watching him patiently, her hands wrapped around her mug.

"She was… my fiancée." Christine's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak. But no words came out. Erik sighed heavily.

"Her name was Anna. I met her ten years ago. We became engaged eight years ago. And she died six and a half years ago." He said slowly.

"Oh my God…"

Erik settled back in his chair, feeling far more vulnerable than he ever had before as he admitted the next part.

"And when she died, so did our child." He said quietly. Christine put a hand over her mouth. Erik didn't look at her, gazing into space as he considered Anna.

"She was the sort of person who could do anything she wanted. Everything she tried, she succeeded at. Even if she wasn't very good at something, she was always satisfied that she'd at least tried it. She was wilful and… and headstrong. When she became sick, she refused to admit that there was anything wrong. The illness quickly took hold and she died on some cold hospital bed. She didn't even know that she was pregnant. I only found out afterwards, from a doctor." He swallowed hard. "To lose Anna was horrific. To then find out that I had lost so much more was more than I could bear."

He met her eyes.

"She painted that picture a couple of weeks after we first became engaged. Art had been something of a hobby for her."

"But… but why did you destroy it?" Christine asked, growing confused. Surely if his beloved fiancée had painted it, he should have treasured it above all things. Erik tried to think of a way to explain it without showing her.

"She saw me. All of me. I hadn't wanted her to see it and I hurt her because of that. I dreamt it and it… it reminded me of what I had lost. I was angry at myself and at her and it was the only thing of hers that was present."

"I'm so sorry…" Christine whispered, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. Erik smiled wretchedly.

"Six, nearly seven years of thinking about her. I left the country and was in Iran for a few months before Nadir found me and brought me here. And for all this time, I have been dreaming of her. But they stopped recently, after I destroyed that painting in fact. I believe I have you to thank for that."

He stopped for a moment before continuing.

"The only thing that she admitted to not be capable of was singing. And believe me, she tried. She practised so hard before finally admitting that she couldn't do it. In fact, she said I was a brave man for staying with her while she made such an awful noise."

Christine didn't know what to say. So she didn't say anything. Erik spoke again, after a few minutes of contemplation.

"I have many regrets. I think the greatest one of all is that I couldn't save her."

"You couldn't have. You aren't a doctor, Erik." Christine pointed out.

"I could have tried."

She paused.

"What do you mean… by that she saw all of you?" She asked tentatively. Erik looked at her slowly and lifted a hand to tap his mask softly.

"This isn't just for decoration. It is… my protection. My shield against the world."

"Did she care when she saw what was under it?"

"…No. No, she didn't." Erik said quietly. "And to this day, I still wonder why she didn't."

He sat, reflecting on what he had just told her. How strange, that it should come out so easily after so long of holding it back. Christine had taken down his defences as though they hadn't even been there in the first place.

"She loved you. It doesn't matter what someone looks like if you love them as much as she must have loved you." Christine said. Erik gave a tiny smile, no more than a miniscule movement of his lips.

"She must have loved me very much to see past this." His hand went once more to the mask.

"Can I ask you another question?" She asked quietly.

"You may."

"When… when I found you after you had destroyed the painting, I saw scars on your back…"

"You wish to know how they came to be there." Erik said. Christine nodded and he let out a hollow laugh.

"I believe I told you once that I didn't have a very good relationship with my mother."

"What?" Christine said, unable to believe what he had just said and what he seemed to be implying. Erik continued as though there had been no interruption.

"And I have also made it clear that I do not have a good relationship with God."

"I… I don't understand."

"My mother was a very religious woman. Almost insanely so." Erik said, his voice no longer filled with tenderness and regret but with anger and seething hatred. "To have a son born like this… well, she imagined that she was being punished for some terrible sin."

He moistened his lips and then said,

"The scars are grouped into threes. For the Father," He held up a finger, "The Son," another finger, "And the Holy Spirit." A third.

He tightened his hand into a fist. "Amen."

Christine bit back a gasp. Erik looked at her.

"But it wasn't just her, Christine. She belonged to a group of people. Some intense Christian sect. They made it a regular… _activity_. They believed that by punishing the Devil's Child they would be forgiven for their sins."

It had been so many years ago but still Erik could remember the chanting, the lines of people that were waiting to inflict their sins on his body. After the first few times he had stopped begging for mercy. They would not grant it to him.

"Through the punishment of my flesh, their souls were saved." He said broodingly.

"I… that's… how _could_ she?"

"The son of a religious woman, born with the face of a demon. What else could she do, other than pay a penance?" Erik said calmly.

"That is _disgusting_." Christine spat angrily.

"And that is the reason why I have never felt the need to worship a Higher Being. What sort of God would allow that practise?" Erik said. "But I prayed for the first time in my life on December 24th of last year. Do you remember why?"

"…I told you to."

"Yes."

"Erik, I'm so sorry." She whispered, appalled at herself for inflicting that on him. "I made you… after what they did…"

"Please don't be sorry. You were right. I found peace that night." Erik said softly. "I made peace with Him."

A tear escaped the rim of Christine's eye and she sniffed, fighting back further tears.

"Sorry. I just… it's so _unfair_. You didn't deserve to suffer like that." She said, her voice constricted by the lump in her throat. Erik watched as another tear escaped.

Part of him was so desperate to cross over and pull her into his arms, to kiss those tears away and let everything out whilst they held each other. But he didn't. Instead he pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes with it before saying,

"It seems like nothing has gone right for you. And you deserve so much goodness."

"You think so? I have always felt that a lot of it was justified."

"By what? What justifies a mother beating her son? Or the death of someone you love? There is _nothing_ to justify that, Erik." Christine said angrily.

They were both silent. Christine looked across at Erik and said,

"I want to see your face."

"No."

"Listen to me…" She got out of her chair and knelt in front of him, tears still staining her face. Erik felt his hands begin to burn as she took them in her own tiny palms. "You are _good_. You have done nothing in your life to deserve what happened. There is no face on earth that could validate what has happened to you, Erik."

She looked him in the eyes.

"I want to see you. _You._ Not the mask."

"Christine-"

"Shh." She reached up and grasped the edge of the mask. Erik caught her wrists.

"Not yet." He said softly.

"What?"

"Not yet… tomorrow. When everything is out, when we've both told everything. Then… if you still wish it, I shall show you."

Christine considered this and then nodded. It was a fair bargain. If he was to bare his soul, she should first bare hers. She lowered her hands but Erik's hands slid up to grasp hers as they fell into his lap. Erik watched as she looked from their hands to his face.

"Christine… I don't want you to say anything now and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. But it is important to me that you know that everything I said that night was the truth." He said tenderly. Christine didn't say anything.

She looked back at his hands and then lifted them to her face, holding them against her cheeks as still more tears slipped from her eyes. The wet warmth of them on his fingers almost broke him there and then. He fought inwardly to control himself.

After a moment, Christine released his hands. She laughed feebly.

"Sorry, I… I got them all wet…"

"It's fine." Erik said quietly. Christine wiped her cheeks, a little embarrassed at herself.

"God, if this is what I'm like in your turn, what am I going to be like tomorrow?" She said. Erik didn't reply and she looked at him.

"I think I'm going to go and… well, collapse in a heap."

"Understandable."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I can say with some certainty that you will. Nadir and I are paying a visit to Populaire. Hannibal is a go-ahead and we wish to brainstorm ideas." Erik said. Christine smiled.

"Good. I mean… yeah."

He accompanied her to the door and she stopped as he opened it.

"So… tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." He repeated. Repeating was safe. It didn't involve emotional trauma for the most part. Christine steeled herself and then slid her arms around him for the briefest moment, hugging him tightly before disappearing into her own apartment. Erik watched her go and then closed the door. He reached up and touched the mask yet again.

_Tomorrow_…

* * *

Christine went into the bathroom and began to run water into the bathtub. She dribbled some bubble bath liquid under the tap and watched as the water foamed into white bubbles. Slowly, she began to undress, turned off the taps and stepped into the hot water. It was almost too hot and she bit her lip as her skin accustomed to the heat. She sank into the water and closed her eyes and she went over everything that Erik had told her.

Why? Why had all those horrible things happened to him? What could his face possibly look like under that mask to make what had happened conceivable? Christine looked at the silver cross that was lying on the surface with her watch and earrings. She reached across and picked it up, examining the cross.

How could this symbol have brought him so much pain? What mother could take this to mean what Erik's mother had?

Christine dropped the cross back onto the shelf and ducked her head under the water. She whipped her wet hair back out of her face, sending droplets across the bathroom. She wiped her eyes and glanced at the bathroom door. Cat was sat outside. He refused to enter a room where water was so readily available. Christine watched him for a moment and then reached for her towel, pulling the plug and allowing the water to spiral into the darkness.

* * *

"Christine, Sorelli, Carlotta and Meg, we've got a meeting with the Hawthorn at ten. Be in the boardroom at ten to." Firmin called as he rushed past to sort out a drama in processing. They all nodded from their separate points and Meg looked at Christine.

"Did you know about this?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?" Christine asked, pencilling a design onto a piece of blank paper. Meg sighed.

"And what's going on with you two?"

"…I don't know. Please don't ask questions." Christine said tiredly. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Sorelli gave her a one-armed hug.

"Cheer up. It could be worse."

"Things aren't _bad_. They're just… stressful." Christine said quietly. She looked at Sorelli. "How are _you_ feeling?"

"Got my first morning sickness today. Boy, was that a whole load of no fun." Sorelli said, rolling her eyes. "But as long as it sticks to the morning, I can handle it. If I have to start dashing into the office toilets at random times in the day I'm going to get annoyed."

"It only lasts for the first few months." Meg said. "And then you get all the crazy cravings!"

"You know, I _have_ been wanting a tuna fish sandwich." Sorelli grinned. "But I want those all the time anyway. I love tuna."

Christine glanced at her watch.

"Well, we've got fifteen minutes until the meeting. I'm going to finish off this last bit of editing and I'll meet you in the boardroom."

"OK." Meg said. "Keep smiling, OK?"

"Sure. But you might want to tell Sorelli that." Christine said, nodding to their friend who had gone rather pale and was stumbling towards the bathroom.

Carlotta, apparently, had not been informed that Erik was back. So when he and Nadir entered the boardroom, Christine glanced at her to find her staring at the masked man. They all sat down and Firmin said,

"A new opera, Hannibal, I believe. I'll let Mr Khan and Mr Destler give details."

Nadir proceeded to give a brief outline of the plot and hand out folders with all the details, pictures and information that they would need. Christine glanced through the folder and found a list of the music that was performed. Her eyes fell upon a particular song and she spoke before she could stop herself,

"_Think of Me_?"

"Ah yes, Erik decided to put that piece in on Saturday. It was only written recently." Nadir said. Christine looked at Erik and saw a very slight smile on his face - almost self-satisfied. She returned the smile and looked back through the folder.

There was a knock at the door and Sorelli came in, looking a little worse for wear.

"Sorry I'm late." She said, slipping into her chair. Firmin looked at her in concern.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She smiled, taking a folder. Nadir smiled at her.

"I believe I should offer my congratulations."

"Thanks Mr Khan." Sorelli beamed. Christine smiled at her and passed a bottle of water. As she sipped it, Christine asked the two men,

"Do you need the full works again?"

"Of course." Nadir said and passed her a sheet. "A list of requirements. Programmes and advertising, as usual. But we thought we might ask if you could make up a few different designs, as you did with the Heaven and Hell concert. We found that advertising in different designs brought more attention to the theatre."

"That's not a problem." Christine said and looked at Firmin. "Richard, I'd like to get Jammes involved on this project. She's been working solitarily so far and I think she could bring a lot to this."

"If you think it's a good idea, by all means see what she can do." Firmin agreed.

With business completed, Firmin invited them for coffee. Sorelli excused herself, saying the smell was making her nauseous. They put the business away and Firmin engaged Nadir in conversation about the success of the Heaven and Hell concert. Christine went over to the window to open it. The room was horribly stuffy and warm. She looked around and saw Erik rising to join her. But Carlotta moved into his path.

"Mr Destler, I didn't know you were back." She smiled beatifically.

"I only returned on Friday evening."

"How was Paris?" She asked.

"Productive."

"I was hoping you'd come back soon. I was rather eager to see if you'd care to go for dinner sometime, pick up where we left off before you had to leave…" She said, clasping her hands coyly behind her back in an effort to seem sweet and appealing.

"Thank you for the offer, but no." Erik said calmly and stepped past her towards Christine. Meg let out a snort at the horror-struck look on Carlotta's face, which she hastily turned into a coughing fit.

Christine turned back to the window, smiling helplessly as Erik joined her. Carlotta cast her a foul glance before moving off to talk with Firmin and Nadir, positioning herself so that she had a clear view of Erik and Christine. Both of whom were ignoring her.

"What made you put _Think of Me_ in there?" Christine asked curiously. Erik shrugged.

"It's a good song. I didn't intend to put it in there. Consider it a dedication for all of your hard work. One of the perks of the job."

"That's an impressive perk." Christine pointed out. "Most people just get wine, or chocolates."

"I sent champagne last time. How does one one-up on expensive champagne?" Erik asked. Christine grinned.

"That's a good point."

"Of course, if you'd _prefer_ wine or chocolates-"

"No." Christine said quickly. "No, having my own song is good too."

Erik smiled slightly.

"Then we have nothing to debate." The coffee arrived and they all helped themselves. Christine dropped a lump of sugar into her cup and began to stir it. She lifted it to take a sip as Erik commented on how he wanted one of the designs done but Carlotta 'accidentally' knocked into Christine, spilling hot coffee down her white shirt. Christine swore loudly, as the boiling water scalded her skin and she dropped her own cup. It hit the floor and shattered, sending more coffee onto the ground. Tears spring to Christine's eyes as the pain set in. Erik turned to Nadir swiftly.

"A cold, damp towel." Meg went running off and returned moments later. Carlotta stood a little back, her eyes a little too widely innocent and a hand over her mouth.

Meg returned and passed the cold towel to Erik. He pressed it against Christine's shirt, a little too aware of exactly _where_ he was holding it. Christine gritted her teeth and Firmin bent over her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" Christine hissed through her teeth.

"Carlotta, fetch the first aid kit." Firmin ordered. Carlotta looked remarkably unimpressed at being told what to do but flounced away. She returned with the box and Meg said,

"I'll take Christine to the ladies. I don't think it's a good idea for her to be taking her shirt off in a roomful of men."

"Ah, yes, of course." Firmin blustered.

Once encased safely in the ladies room, Christine took off her shirt and winced at the bright red patch on the left side of her chest, just below the shoulder and neck. Meg rooted around in the medical box.

"Here's some antiseptic cream. I think we can safely say that you'll live. The shirt on the other hand…" Meg glanced at the large brown stain. "We may have to say goodbye to it."

"What am I going to do? I can't wander around the office for the rest of the day in just my skirt and bra!"

"Erik might not object." Meg sniggered and Christine pinched her. She scowled. "Hey, I'm helping you here! Hold still." She rubbed on some of the antiseptic cream and Christine winced.

"Ouch."

"Sorry." Meg muttered. "Anyway, I saw all the flirting between you two."

"… I'm going to tell him everything tonight." Christine said quietly.

Meg looked at her in surprise.

"_Everything_? As if in-"

"Everything. Yes." Christine took a deep breath. "He told me about his past last night. Mine seems like nothing compared to what he went through."

"Jesus, that has to have been on traumatic childhood to beat yours."

"It was."

She didn't say anything further. She had no right to say anything. The door to the ladies opened and Sorelli came in with a spare shirt.

"Here, Christine. I was going to the doctors after work and I brought a spare shirt in case I had time to change beforehand. But I'd say that your need is greater than mine right now. What happened exactly?"

"Carlotta."

"Ah." It was explanation enough. Christine pulled the shirt on and Sorelli grinned. "Well, it's little big in some areas."

"Stop showing off." Christine muttered, tugging at the shirt.

"And don't they get bigger during pregnancy?" Meg said. Sorelli rubbed her hands together.

"Great! You can have some of my old shirts if you want, Meg, yours will probably fit."

Christine glared at them both and they both laughed.

"Don't worry, Christine. Yours are nice too. I'll bet Erik likes them." Meg teased. Christine rather wanted to slap her a little bit.

* * *

Erik and Nadir were still there when the three women emerged from the bathroom. Firmin went to Christine.

"Are you alright? Perhaps you should see your GP…"

"It's fine. Just a little sore." Christine assured him.

"If you're sure." Firmin said. Erik looked at Christine and she smiled briefly.

"I feel a little silly right now."

"It's no laughing matter." Nadir said firmly. "Burns like that can be quite serious."

"Well, I'm fine. Embarrassed, for the most part, but I'm sure it was an accident." Christine said. Erik lifted an unconvinced eyebrow but, diplomatically, chose not to voice his opinions.

"Erik, we really should get back to the theatre and see how rehearsals are going." Nadir said.

"Very well." Erik said, pulling his coat on. Firmin went to shake hands with Nadir and Erik took the opportunity to move closer to Christine. "I shall see you this evening."

"Yes." She said. Erik considered her for a moment and then placed a hand on her shoulder for the briefest of moments before following Nadir out.

Meg appeared at her elbow.

"Oh yeah. He wants you."

Christine proceeded to dig aforementioned elbow into Meg's ribs.

* * *

Erik walked swiftly back to Gaston Place after work. He was keen to hear what Christine had to say. He wanted to know what had happened in her past to bring her to this place. To know what had occurred to mould her into the person that she was now.

Only after everything was out, once they had bared their souls to each other, could anything happen between them. He now knew that what he felt was requited, that the next time he kissed her, she would not run. Something unspoken had passed between them and it was clear what would happen next.

And Erik longed for it. He wanted to start anew. He wanted to leave behind the memories. Man could not dwell forever on what he could not possibly have. Erik wanted to leave it, not to forget, but to move on to this wondrous new life that was lying for him to reach out and take. He knew that with Christine Daae, he could be happy.

It had been so long since he had been able to claim that he was happy.

He walked across the car park to the door of Gaston Place and found someone was waiting outside. Cat was sat some way off, next to a bush and was glaring at the strange for taking his place. When he saw Erik, Cat followed him to the door, recognising him. The stranger pressed the intercom button again. Erik caught sight of the button.

It was for apartment 5b. He paused and looked at the man. He was probably a few years older than Christine, much younger than himself. His blonde hair was tied into a stylish ponytail and he had bright blue eyes. He caught sight of Erik and grinned with a charming smile.

"Do you live here?"

"I do." Erik replied guardedly. The guy scratched his head and said,

"I don't suppose you know Christine Daae, do you?"

"…Yes, I do."

"Fantastic, do you know when she's due back?"

"Any minute now." Erik said, glancing at his watch. His heart had turned to stone and was swiftly sinking. The man was clutching a bunch of flowers and offered his hand to Erik.

"Raoul de Chagny."

"Erik Destler." Erik replied, dropping his hand.

Raoul leant back against the wall, unconsciously putting himself out of sight of the path and at that moment Christine turned the corner. Cat instantly set off towards her and Christine bent down to pick him up. She moved swiftly to the door, seeing Erik.

"Hi." She said, almost breathlessly. But before Erik could return the greeting, Raoul tapped her shoulder.

"Hey Christine."

She turned and took a step back instantly. Erik saw that her face had gone strangely pale. Raoul grinned at her.

"How are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Christine said, apparently in shock. Erik looked from one to the other, not liking the situation at all.

Raoul let out a slight laugh.

"Come on, Chris. Haven't you even got a 'hello' for your husband?"

**A/N: Mwahahaha. **

**And that's all I have to say. **


	21. Heaven in Hell's Despair

**The Girl Next Door**

"Husband?" Erik said flatly, looking closely at Christine.

"_Ex_ husband." Christine said hurriedly, looking at him desperately with wide, insistent eyes. Raoul shrugged.

"Well, if we're going to be technical-"

"We are. Why are you here?" Christine said in an infuriated tone, turning back to him.

"I wanted to talk to you." He said simply.

Christine closed her eyes for a moment and Erik waited. She opened her eyes again and looked at Raoul.

"…You'd better come in." Erik instantly turned and tapped in the code. The door opened and the three of them, plus cat, went into the building. There was a _very_ uncomfortable silence in the elevator. Erik glanced briefly at Raoul. His hands were thrust into his pockets and he kept looking at Christine. Cat was twining his way around Christine's feet, throwing glares from one man to the other at this invasion of his and Christine's after-work alone time.

They stopped at the fifth floor and they all got out. Raoul followed Erik and Christine down the hallway. Erik opened his door and then looked across at Christine. She was watching him anxiously.

"Are you-?"

"I will be in my apartment. If you need me." He said, casting a quick glance at Raoul, who blinked in astonishment. Christine nodded and smiled weakly before unlocking her door and standing back to let Raoul in. She cast a last look at Erik and then followed him inside.

Raoul was stood in the living room, looking around.

"This is a really nice place, Christine."

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Christine said angrily, wrenching her coat off and flinging it at the hook. Raoul stared at her.

"Christine, I just wanted to see you."

"Raoul, we are divorced. I have set myself up with a new life here and I did that so we wouldn't have to see each other anymore! For God's sake, why _now_? Just when things are getting better and I'm actually getting back on top of everything, you have to come along and ruin it all again!" Christine said, kicking her shoes off and storming into the kitchen to pour milk for Cat. Once he was drinking, she turned back to her old husband. He was watching her with a furrowed brow.

"Christine, don't you think it's a little childish to keep up this 'not seeing each other' thing?"

"No, Raoul, I don't. I found that it was working extremely well." Christine said.

"Did you get my Christmas present?" He asked.

"…No. I didn't." She lied, thinking about the box that had been tossed straight into the rubbish chute. "And that's another thing – divorced people don't send each other Christmas presents! What is _wrong_ with you?"

Raoul watched as she moved around the living room, clearing dirty cups and pushing pieces of paper into folders.

"Chris, stop." She looked at him and he swallowed. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't live without you. I know… it wasn't easy, us being together. But the divorce was so rushed and-"

"Why was it rushed?" Christine demanded. Raoul breathed heavily.

"Because you wanted to leave."

"That's right. I told you all of this before I moved out. Our marriage was a disaster, we were both miserable!" She said angrily.

"I think we should try again."

Christine laughed. She couldn't help it. The mere _notion_ of it was ridiculous.

"Have you completely taken leave of your senses?" She asked. "Don't you remember what it was like?"

"Yes, I do. I remember how happy we were." Raoul said quietly. "I know things got rough towards the end but at first, they were so great. We were good together, Christine."

Christine sank into an armchair, putting her head in her hands.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." She mumbled into her fingers. Raoul dropped the flowers onto the coffee table and moved to sit in front of her.

"Christine… c'mon. Remember when we first got married? We were so happy. We were great together and we had so many plans…"

"And then you lost interest." Christine reminded him. "I got wrapped up in my work, you were busy taking care of the family name and we could barely stand the sight of each other anymore. We made each other unhappy and angry all the time. God… you actually have the worst timing in the world."

"Why?"

"I am so _close_ to having… to being with someone. Someone that I really want to be with." Christine said crossly. "And now he'll probably never even talk to me again!"

"Why not? …You mean _that_ guy?" Raoul said, his eyes widening as he gestured to the door. "That guy is who you want to be with?"

"Yes, Raoul! And his name is Erik, not 'that guy'."

Raoul took her hands in his.

"Christine, I came here to win you back. And I'm not leaving until I have." He said softly.

* * *

Erik paced his apartment, trying to understand what had just happened.

Her husband.

She had been married.

…This threw a new light on things.

He had briefly considered playing the piano. But he was too unsettled. Then the thought of trying to eavesdrop had occurred but he had instantly dismissed that as unconscionable. Quite simply, he could not do anything except pace. And that pastime was getting old fast.

Time passed by painfully slowly. Every time he looked at the clock, it hadn't moved. In fact, at one point he was quite sure that the hands had gone _backwards_ a few minutes. After glaring at the clock, he returned to pacing.

Finally, over an hour later, he heard voices. He crossed to the door and opened it. Christine was stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as Raoul moved down the hallway, flowers still in hand and with a dejected look on his face. He looked at Erik as he appeared, cast him a disbelieving glance up and down and then disappeared.

Erik waited until the doors had closed and then looked at Christine. She was staring at the wall, arms folded in front of her protectively, jaw fixed stiffly. After several moments of tense silence, Erik reached across and touched her arm. She looked at him and smiled tiredly.

"Well… I suppose I should tell you my part now."

"I'm guessing that he was a big part of it?" Erik said, gesturing to the elevator that had just taken Raoul away. Christine sighed and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. He was a pretty big part."

"Why was he here?" Erik asked. He knew he shouldn't really ask but he had to know. Christine brushed her hair out of her face.

"He wanted me to come back to him. He wanted to give it another try."

"…I see."

"I said no." Christine added, glancing at him. Erik didn't react. But his heart had instantly lightened.

She moved back into her apartment and Erik followed. Christine picked up Cat, who was walking agilely across the back of the sofa. He purred noisily as she rubbed her face against his soft fur. She looked across at Erik and then sat down. He did too, a little way off. She clearly needed some space. Christine curled up on her chair, Cat lying comfortably across her knees.

"Raoul comes in later, in the big picture. The first part is to do with my parents." She said slowly. "I told you what happened, didn't I?"

"Your mother was in a car crash and your father took his own life."

"Yes. But I didn't tell you why he killed himself. I haven't told anybody."

She took a deep breath, bracing herself before meeting his eyes.

"My father loved Mum so much. He couldn't live without her." She said softly. "And he couldn't stand the sight of me."

"Why?" Erik whispered.

"In that car crash, Mum died." Christine swallowed hard. "And I didn't."

They looked at each for a moment and then Christine put her head against the side of the headrest, staring into space.

"I survived. A broken leg, lots of cuts and bruises, but nothing life-threatening. Mum was rushed into an operating theatre and the doctors worked for hours to try and save her. But she died on the operating table. Dad didn't come and see me after that. I was only in hospital for a couple of days but he didn't… When I got home, he couldn't look at me anymore without becoming depressed. He was working late all the time, leaving early just so he wouldn't have to see me."

"Christine-"

"Sometimes I caught him looking at me. He always looked away straight away but I could see it in his eyes. He was wondering why I had lived and she hadn't. Why should I be the one to live? What was life without _her_?"

A slightly bitter tone had crept into Christine's voice. But it was greatly overshadowed by sorrowful desperation.

"I tried _so_ hard to make things better. I worked hard in school, got all of my A levels, enough to get into any of the universities that I had applied to. But the summer when I got my results… I had a part time job at a café, as a waitress. I got home one night, after my shift and… and I found the police there, and my neighbour."

She swallowed hard.

"Dad had… he cut his wrists. I didn't… I didn't see anything. The police kept me downstairs, he was in the bathroom." She whispered. "That was his final gift to me. He had already sorted everything, the money, the house, all of the arrangements for the funeral… there was an envelope with everything in it that I would need. And he had made sure to invite the neighbour over for a drink, two hours after he was going to do it. So that I wouldn't be the one to find him. It was almost an apology for everything that had happened."

Erik watched her. She was stroking Cat's fur gently, but her fingers were trembling as she related the grisly tale to him. She licked her dry lips and said,

"I went to university, a local one. And it was there that I met Raoul. By that point I was a mess and I just clung to him so tight. We married a couple of months after we graduated and I moved in with him and his family, across town. We were married for two years and… things went bad. We were just so different. He was in the family business and I wasn't expected to work, but I wanted to. So I applied at Populaire Advertising and got the job straight away.

At first things were fine. We were both so busy; we didn't really get to see a lot of each other. And things just went downhill. I just threw myself into work and I began to realise that I had only married him because I thought that I needed to be with someone to be worth anything. I wanted to prove to myself that just because Dad hadn't been able to stand me, someone else could.

We started fighting over stupid, trivial little things. It got worse and I started staying at Meg's house overnight, because I just couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in the same bed as him anymore. And last year I told him that I wanted a divorce. He didn't argue and I set it all up. Because his family was well known it was quick and discreet. I lived with Meg for a couple of days and then Firmin said that he had a friend who was landlord for some apartments and there was one going free."

Christine looked up at Erik.

"So I moved in straight away. And the rest… well, you already know it all." She said simply. She felt almost proud of herself. She had _done_ it, and without even crying. In fact, she felt almost detached from the whole experience, as though she had been recounting someone else's life to him.

She stood up and Cat quickly lay down on the warm patch of chair she had created. Walking slowly in front of the fireplace, Christine said in a measured voice,

"I have done _so_ many things that are wrong. My life, it just seems to have been one big mistake after another. I drove my father to end his own life; I couldn't even make my marriage work. I didn't think that I could to anything right. But I… I did it. I stood on my own two feet and… I thought that I was so capable. But then Stuart came along and I realised that I couldn't be alone. I didn't want to be alone so I just hung onto him when I shouldn't have done."

Christine stopped and looked at him.

"And you… you made me realise that it was wrong. Whilst you were away I realised that I _couldn't_ go my whole life just hanging onto other people until I felt safe enough to let go. I need someone who needs me too." She said.

It was almost an invitation. Erik stood and moved to stand in front of her. Christine looked up at him, eyes guarded but somehow pleading at the same time.

"I'm not going to say that I love you." She whispered. "I need you, more than anything in my life. But please don't ask me to say that. It hurts too much to admit it."

"I don't need to hear it." Erik said in a murmur.

His arms went around her, holding her tightly to him. She leant her head against his chest, clutching his arms desperately. Unshed tears filled her eyes and she mumbled into his torso.

"Please don't leave me…" Her voice was broken and tearful. "Please don't ever leave me."

"I won't." Erik whispered, a lump rising in his own throat as he heard her desperate plea.

"I've had this dream." She murmured, lifting her head to look at him but not letting go of him, in case something decided to tear him away.

"Dream?"

"You promised that you wouldn't leave and then I woke up and you weren't there."

"This isn't a dream." He said. Christine's lip trembled and she bit on it.

"But I don't know, you could… I… I can't…I don't want to wake up and…"

"This _isn't_ a dream, Christine." Erik whispered.

"But-"

"So don't wake up." He interrupted and he kissed her.

She didn't run away this time. She didn't do anything but kiss him back. It was soft and chaste and sweet. After a few moments, Christine pulled her face away from his and looked at him, her expression clear and pure. Erik tightened his arms around her and she lifted her hands to his face. He closed his eyes tightly, knowing what she was doing. Oh _God_, he didn't want her to do it.

But he had promised.

He felt her soft fingers on the mask and there was rush of air as she lifted it away and exposed the misshapen flesh beneath. He waited for the scream, for the struggle to escape his arms. But nothing happened other than an almost inaudible intake of breath. Hardly daring to do so, he opened his eyes. Christine hadn't moved from his grasp. As his eyes opened, she ran a finger nervously over the red, twisted skin, the blue veins showing up far too obviously to be normal. The eye seemed sunken in and the nose seemed to be falling in on itself. Christine explored the skin with careful fingers, being extraordinarily gentle so as not to risk causing him pain because that was the absolute last thing that she wanted. Erik watched closely until her fingers stopped, on the hollow of his cheek.

She looked him in the eyes and he saw determination there. She spread her fingers over his cheek and spoke softly but firmly.

"_And I wept both night and day_

_And he wiped my tears away_."

And before Erik could even react to the words, she had lifted her face to his and all he knew was that she was kissing him and that he was holding her and that he had what so many people never got in a lifetime.

A second chance.

* * *

If this had been in a film, the obvious next step would have been for Erik to carry Christine to the bedroom and for them to make passionate love.

What actually happened was that they collapsed on the sofa and fell asleep. The day had taken its toll on them both and while they meant to talk, both were soon asleep. Erik lay with his arms curled about Christine, her face pressing into his chest as they slept peacefully.

They woke in the morning when Cat decided that it would be terribly amusing to jump onto Erik's leg and dig his claws in. Erik woke with a yell and swiped at the animal, which hissed and darted under the table, yowling. Christine awoke with a start, caught sight of Erik and let out a confused gasp and falling off the edge of the table and hitting her head on the table. Erik sat up and reached for his mask as Christine sat up, holding her head. Cat crawled into Christine's lap and glared at Erik.

For a moment they were silently puzzled and then Christine said,

"…That was _bizarre_."

"I can't say that I've ever woken up like that before." Erik said and glanced at Cat. "I don't think he approves of me." He stood and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Christine accepted it, but once she was stood, sudden shyness came over her. Erik apparently didn't feel entirely comfortable either. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Good morning."

"And to you." He said quietly. Christine put Cat on the sofa, where he stood watching them like a disapproving parent. Erik slid his arm around her waist and put his chin on top of her head.

"My apologies for the rude awakening. It cannot have been the most pleasant to wake up, seeing…"

"It didn't scare me, Erik. I just wasn't expecting to see you." She said firmly. And then she saw the clock. "God, it can't be that time!"

He glanced over at the clock and winced. They both had twenty minutes before they were due to be at work. He released her and she looked at him.

"I've got to have a shower and find some clean clothes!"

"I'll go and change." He said, heading to the door. Christine nodded and then paused. Tentatively, she pressed her mouth to his and then rushed off to the bedroom.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Christine." Meg said cheerfully as Christine arrived at work. She glared at the blonde woman.

"I'm only ten minutes late."

"Which is fifteen minutes later than usual." Meg pointed out. "What were you doing?"

"I just overslept." Christine said. Meg followed her into her office.

"_Just_ overslept. Rather convenient. Did Erik _just oversleep_ as well?"

Christine closed the door to her office and looked at Meg.

"You have the subtlety of a ton of bricks, do you know that?"

"It's been mentioned. Something happened, didn't it?" Meg said eagerly. Christine couldn't help smiling slightly.

"Sort of. But you're not going to believe who showed up at my door last night."

"Who?"

"Only my ex-husband."

"What? Why?" Meg said, falling into a chair.

"He wanted me to go back to him." Christine said, turning on her computer and sitting down. "I said no, obviously."

Meg whistled.

"I swear that you just stepped out of a soap opera." She said. "This sort of thing just doesn't happen in real life. But what happened with Erik?"

"Well, once I got rid of Raoul, Erik came over and I told him everything about Raoul and my parents. And then… well, we kissed and then we fell asleep."

"You fell asleep?" Meg said disbelievingly. "You fell _asleep_. You have been waiting for this guy for over three months and your first night together you fall asleep?"

"He fell asleep too." Christine said defensively.

Meg just shook her head.

"I despair of you, Christine. Well, I'm going to go and do some work. Once I see if Sorelli's stopped throwing up yet."

And with those charming parting words, she disappeared. Christine tapped a pen on her desk and started to work. In truth, she didn't really know what to do now. It had been fairly easy to deal with Stuart as a boyfriend.

But Erik was different. Christine didn't know where they were, what they were to each other, how this would work. She clicked her tongue as she looked at the computer screen, her mind miles away. Last night she had been so upset and then so happy and then she'd felt so much contentment. She and Erik had truly connected. She knew how much it must have taken for him to reveal his face to her, the face that had caused him so much pain.

But what of his face? Yes, it was terrible. That didn't change him as a person, did it? No, of course not. It simply made him more admirable. To have gone through so much pain and still be able to tell her what had happened… he needed her as much as she needed him. It was clear to her. They were like two shipwrecked survivors, clinging to each other for life in a sea of despair.

* * *

At lunchtime she joined Sorelli and Meg by the coffee machine, where they poured over the sonogram prints of the baby. Christine had to admit, it didn't look like more than a wobbly blot at the moment, but Sorelli was so ridiculously proud that she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Christine winced as her burn twinged painfully.

"Is it feeling any better?" Meg asked sympathetically.

"Yes, but it still hurts a bit." Christine admitted. Sorelli was now showing her prints off to a large group of people that had just come back from the café, Carlotta and Firmin among. Meg laughed.

"She's going to be a fantastic mum."

"I know. She's just so proud and it's not even a proper baby yet." Christine smiled.

They all looked up as a delivery person came in.

"Is Christine Daae here?" He called. Christine stood up apprehensively.

"Yes…"

"Flowers for you." The man said, handing them to her. It was a single red rose, surrounded by a spray of tiny white flowers and tied with a black silk ribbon.

"Thank you." Christine said, smiling shyly as everyone surged forward to investigate. There was a card attached and written on it in elegantly scrawling handwriting were words that Christine knew.

**_Love seeketh not itself to please_**

**_Nor for itself hath any care_**

**_But for another gives its ease_**

**_And builds a Heaven in Hells despair_**

_Is this preferable to wine and chocolates?_

_Erik_

"I don't get it." Meg said, after scanning the poem.

"Inside joke." Christine said.

"Did he write that poem? How sweet!" Sorelli cooed.

"No, it's Blake." Christine explained.

"Erik? As if in, Erik Destler? The guy from the Hawthorn Theatre?" Jammes asked curiously. "Are you going out with him?"

Firmin and Carlotta both looked up instantly. Firmin with a surprised look on his face and Carlotta with a furious one. Christine looked at her boss and he smiled with a slight eye roll, as if to say 'Well, if you must'.

"…Sort of." Christine said and then changed her mind. "Yes, we are seeing each other." Sorelli read the poem again and said,

"Who wrote it again?"

"William Blake."

"Oh. How did you know that?"

"Because I love Blake." Christine said.

"And he knew? Who knew he was such a romantic?" Sorelli smiled.

Christine glanced at her watch.

"OK, lunch is over. I'm getting back to work." She extracted herself from the departing group and found herself face to face with Carlotta. The blonde woman gave her a look of pure hatred before moving onwards. Which only managed to further improve Christine's good mood.

**A/N: I hope this chapter is a little more pleasing than the last! And I hope that Erik and Christine's moment there was convincing. I agree, that was a terrible cliff-hanger in the last chapter. But I just couldn't resist. The poem used in this chapter is 'The Clod and the Pebble' from 'Songs of Experience.' Seriously, if you haven't read any Blake poems, I recommend that you do. 'The Angel', 'The Tyger' and pretty much anything from 'Songs of Experience' are wonderful. You can find all of his poems on the internet, just search on google!**

**I'll be honest now – I'm not entirely sure where this is going from now on. I'm almost a little disappointed that Erik and Christine are together! It's so much fun to write them separately, with all that tension! I'll try and keep that in from now on. But I really only planned this up to Erik and Christine getting together. I need to think about where to go now because I am not ready to end this story when there's still so much to do with it!**

**When I posted the last chapter, all the other chapters decided to randomly rearrange themselves. You know, just for the fun of it. So I spent ages rearranging them, which was very difficult, because I only come up with a chapter name when I'm posting the chapter. So I had to check each chapter, compare it with my saved copy and then reorganise it all into the right order! Thanks for everyone who emailed to tell me it was messed up. It should be back to normal by now.**

**Thanks for all the reviews. I loved them all!**

**Love**

**Katie**


	22. A Friend In Need

**The Girl Next Door**

Jammes watched Christine closely as she critically examined the design for _Hannibal_. Christine rubbed her chin and then looked at Jammes.

"I am seriously impressed, Jammes. This is top-quality work." She said earnestly. Jammes' face relaxed into a grin.

"Really?"

"Really. This is amazing, comparing it to what you were doing just weeks ago. I'm going to show this to Firmin and see if we can get it onto the programmes."

"Thanks so much, Christine, that's brilliant!" Jammes said excitedly, near skipping away. Christine watched her go with a smile and picked up Jammes' work up. She left her office and started the walk to Firmin's. After knocking, she looked in. He was sat with Carlotta and a man that Christine didn't recognise.

"Ah, Christine, come in!" Firmin said, looking rather pleased. "This is Mr Guidacelli, Carlotta's father. Mr Guidacelli, Christine is one of our best employees and organises all of the work for the Hawthorn Theatre projects. As you know, they take up a large percentage of our clientele.

Mr Guidacelli was a strongly built man with thick silver hair and it was clear to see where Carlotta got her strong looks from. He shook Christine's hand and Firmin asked,

"What can I do for you, Christine?"

"It's not urgent, if you're busy…"

"No, no, Mr Guidacelli is just interested in seeing what it is that Carlotta's been doing and how we work here."

"Well, I've got one of Jammes' designs here and I think it should go in the programme." Christine said, handing it to him. Carlotta lifted an eyebrow.

"Jammes? She's never worked on the Hawthorn's before; surely she can't have produced something good enough to go on the programme."

"The work speaks for itself." Christine said firmly. "If you compare that to her earlier pieces, you can see how well she's done. That's good quality designing for someone of her experience. If we get her involved now, she can pick up more tips and techniques and she could be capable of producing full pieces within a few months if she carries on at this rate."

Firmin considered the piece.

"I'll put it in with the designs I'm sending to the Hawthorn today, Christine, but I think Carlotta's right. Jammes hasn't got enough experience." He said, clearly not wanting to show Carlotta up in front of her father and their benefactor.

"With all respect, Richard, experience shouldn't matter. I've only been here for two, three years and I'm heading a department." Christine said, sensing that she was losing the battle. "That piece is good enough for the Hawthorn programmes."

They all watched Firmin, waiting for a verdict. He took a few moments of deliberation before putting the design down.

"It can go with the designs. We'll let the theatre decide." He said firmly. Christine clenched her jaw but nodded, said her thanks, and walked out before she said anything that she'd regret. Once outside the office she threw a killer glare at the door.

"For _God's_ sake!"

"What's up, Chrissie?" Sorelli asked.

"Bloody Carlotta Guidacelli, that's what!" Christine said, following her to the coffee machine.

"What's she done now?" Meg said, joining them.

"I wanted to put one of Jammes' designs on the programme but Carlotta said it wasn't a good idea. And since Daddy Dearest is in there with them, Firmin instantly agreed with her! I am sick of her; she doesn't do _anything_ constructive around here!" Christine ranted. "All she does is get in the way!"

"But her father does provide us with our equipment." Sorelli pointed out. "We can't lose him as a backer, the company could go under."

"It'll go under anyway, if he refuses to put our best work out!" Christine retorted angrily. "Oh, I can't do this. I'm going to do some work."

* * *

When Christine got back to Gaston Place, her mood had not improved any further. She stormed up the steps without saying hello to Cat, who followed her in regardless. Erik was by the post boxes, leafing through his mail. He glanced up as she entered, sensing her unhappy disposition.

"Good afternoon."

"It is now I'm out of that bloody office." She growled, marching over to the boxes. She pulled out her letters and glanced through them. Bill, bill, advertising, letter from her solicitor, advertising.

"Christine?"

"What?" She looked up at him. He was watching her closely.

"What happened?"

"Carlotta Guida-bloody-celli."

"You seem to be using an excessive amount of profanities today." He said pointedly. "And you haven't said hello."

Christine put down her post and smiled tiredly.

"Hi. How was your day?" She said, kissing him.

"Fine. Now stop swearing, calm down and come upstairs and tell me exactly what it is that has offended you so greatly." He said authoritatively. Christine nodded and he took her hand, twining his long fingers around her palm as he led her to the elevator. Cat was patiently waiting for him by the doors. He seemed to have resigned himself to the fact that whether he liked it or not, Erik and Christine _were_ going to spend time together and he _would_ have to share her.

They went to Christine's apartment, which was how they had settled into a routine for their evenings. If neither of them had pressing work matters to deal with, they had tea or coffee in Christine's apartment whilst they discussed the day's work. Then they usually did some music and they took it in turns to cook dinner, eating in Erik's apartment and spending the evenings there.

"Tea or coffee?" Christine asked, flicking the kettle on.

"Tea, please. And I'll cook tonight."

"But it's my turn." She said, dropping teabags into the pot. Erik took a deep breath.

"We will be having company for dinner tonight."

"Who?"

"Nadir. I told him this morning that we are seeing each other and he's taken it upon himself to act as my overprotective parents and inspect you."

"But he already knows me." Christine said, looking at him with a frown. "We spent lots of time working together on the Heaven and Hell concert."

"I know. But he's gotten the idea into his head and even some choice threats would not remove it." Erik commented dryly. Christine smiled.

"Well, I like Nadir so that's OK. But he must be seriously bored to do this."

"He is. What did Carlotta do this time?"

Christine related the incident to him and he lifted an eyebrow.

"You do realise that you could just ask me to make sure that I choose Jammes' piece."

"But only if you like it, Erik." She warned. "I don't want you picking it just because I asked you to."

"If it's as good as you believe, I should think that we'd choose it anyway." Erik pointed out and Christine couldn't disagree with that. She set the tea brewing and poured some milk into Cat's saucer.

"I had a phone call from Monsieur Karon today. The date of the opening night of _Il Muto_ has been set for June 1st." Erik said.

"Oh, right. That's only three weeks off. Is it as good as the one here?"

"There are a few differences, but it was doing well when I left. I am planning on going to Paris for the opening." He said casually, watching her. "And I was wondering if you would care to accompany me there."

Christine looked over at him, considering him for a moment.

"Yes, that'd be lovely." She smiled. Erik felt a smile curve his own mouth and let it. After all, that was certainly something smile about.

"I've never been to Paris. I went to France when I was at school and we had a few family holidays there, but we never visited the capital." Christine said, spooning sugar into her cup and getting milk from the refrigerator. "Nadir said that you have an apartment there."

"I do, yes."

"Wow. That must be wonderful, to be able to get away so easily and be able to just go and live in another country whenever you wanted to." Christine commented wistfully.

"I remember thinking when I was in Paris how much you would love the opera house." Erik commented abstractedly. "I wrote about it."

"Wrote about it?" Christine said, pouring tea into their cups. Erik hadn't actually mentioned the letters that were now tucked away in his desk.

"Yes. When I was away, I wrote you a letter almost everyday." He said. Christine looked at him.

"I never got any letters."

"I didn't send them."

"Oh…" She paused. "Can I see them?"

"I'd rather you didn't." He said honestly. "It would all seem a little foolish now."

Christine left it at that. It was easier than trying to force it out of him. She knew how stubborn he could be about these things.

* * *

Nadir arrived promptly at seven, as Erik was dishing up bowlfuls of hot chilli with brown rice and fresh, steaming bread. Christine answered the door to his apartment and smiled.

"Hello Nadir. Come on in."

"Thank you, Christine." He said, pulling off his coat. Christine hung it up for him.

"Dinner is just ready. Erik, Nadir's here." She called into the kitchen. Erik emerged and Nadir said,

"That smells very good."

"We were just waiting for you."

They sat on chairs around the island surface in the centre of Erik's kitchen. Christine had a table in hers, but Erik had preferred the extra surface. With wine poured and food served, they were silent for a few moments as they tucked into the delicious cuisine before conversation started on the topic of _Hannibal_.

"Have you started rehearsals?" Christine asked.

"Oh, yes. Well, running through the score, casting and so on. It'll be quite some time before we begin full stage rehearsals." Nadir said. "Have you started designs?"

"They'll be sent through tomorrow." Christine confirmed.

They had an avid discussion on the best points of _Il Muto_ and the Heaven and Hell concert.

"But what about after _Hannibal_? You haven't got an infinite backlog of operas to throw in, Erik. You may actually have to write something." Nadir said, with a peaked eyebrow. Erik settled back in his stool.

"You just carry on with your part. You manage, I write."

"How can I be a manager if there's nothing to manage in the first place?" Nadir shot back.

"What about that one that you haven't finished yet?" Christine asked.

Erik's hand tensed around the wineglass as Nadir chuckled softly.

"Ah, I suppose you are referring to the elusive _Don Juan Triumphant_? That masterpiece has long escaped my clutches, and it is not yet even finished, Christine." He said. "But if you can convince Erik to allow me a glimpse of it, I should be eternally indebted to you."

"Why _are_ you so secretive about that one?" Christine asked, looking at Erik. He had tightened his mouth into a strict line.

"That opera is incredibly different from my other ones. It is not crowd-pleasing and in its inevitable failure I would find it impossible to recreate music. _Don Juan _shall not triumph at the Hawthorn Theatre."

"After this run of successes, you could produce anything and the public would love it." Nadir said.

"Which is _precisely_ why I refuse to put it on." Erik said sharply.

This seemed to be the signal for a change in conversation so Nadir chose to comment on the quality of the cooking in order to cover the inevitable awkward silence.

They had nearly finished eating when Christine's mobile phone rang. She tugged it out of her pocket, wiping her mouth.

"Hello?"

"He's going out with _Maria_!" A voice wailed. Christine blinked.

"Sorelli? Calm down, what's wrong?"

"Steven! He's going out with Maria from publications!" Sorelli sobbed. Christine pushed her chair back from the table, going into the living room whilst Nadir and Erik cleared the dishes away.

"I just saw Tina, who heard it from Mark, who works with Steven in communications!"

"Sorelli, he's a loser, remember?"

"But how could he _do_ this to me? To _us_?" Sorelli snivelled. "Christine, can I come over? I really need to see a friendly face. I tried Meg cos I knew you had plans with Erik but she's out with Matt and…"

"Of course, come straight over." Christine insisted. "I'll see you soon, OK?"

She hung up, turned and saw Erik watching her.

"I invited her over."

"So I heard. Is she alright?"

"Not really. The guy who got her pregnant is going out with someone else from work." Christine said slowly. "I think she really loved him. But now he's gone and done this to her… Is it OK for her to come?"

"Of course. I'll put the kettle on."

Nadir came into the living room, passing Erik in the doorway.

"Is everything alright?"

"Sorelli's having dramas." Christine said. "She needs to be with someone right now so she's coming over."

"Sorelli…" Nadir strained his mind. "Blonde woman, quite tall, dark eyes? The one who's having a baby?"

"That's her." Christine nodded.

Ten minutes later, Christine heard her buzzer go and answered it. She and Erik rarely bothered to close their doors now, since they were the only people on the floor. She let Sorelli up and waited in the corridor for her. Sorelli stepped out of the elevator, eyes red and cheeks stained from sobbing. Christine pulled her into a hug.

"Oh, Sorelli…"

She guided her into Erik's apartment and sat her down on the sofa as she burst into tears again.

"Christine, I want him _back_! Why doesn't he want me?"

"Because he is a bastard, Sorelli, that's why." Christine said firmly. "He is scum and he doesn't deserve someone as wonderful as you."

"But… but our baby…"

"Is going to have such a wonderful mum that he or she won't even care that Steven isn't around." Christine said, sitting beside her. Sorelli put her head on Christine's shoulder, crying with soft sobs. Christine held her gently for several minutes until the sniffling stopped. Nadir came in with a box of tissues and Sorelli took one.

"I know he's not worth it but…"

"Sweetie, you're emotionally fragile right now and the excess hormones probably aren't helping. You just need to get perspective. There are so many great guys out there who are going to love you for who you are. You don't need one like him." Christine said comfortingly.

Erik came into the living room, carrying a cup of tea. He gave it to Sorelli, who thanked him and then said,

"I'm sorry, you were all having dinner and I just interrupted-"

"Nonsense." Erik said calmly. "We were hardly busy. Especially if someone is in need of aid."

"See? Why can't I have a guy like that?" Sorelli mumbled. Christine patted her back.

"Because I got there first. Feeling better?"

"Not really." She said, sipping at the hot tea. Erik looked at Christine.

"Did I ever meet this man?"

"I don't think so. No, you wouldn't have. He didn't come to any of the meetings." Christine said, considering. Sorelli sniffed.

"Consider yourself lucky, Mr Destler."

"I couldn't possibly comment, not having met him." Erik said dryly. Christine smiled slightly and wiped Sorelli's cheeks with a tissue.

"Tell you what, Meg and I are taking you out tomorrow night. We'll go to Club Garnier and have a proper night out, OK?"

"OK." Sorelli said. She blew her nose noisily and dropped the tissue into the bin, before wiping smudged mascara from her cheeks. "God, I must look a mess."

"Use the bathroom, if you wish." Erik offered, gesturing to the door.

Christine scratched her head as Sorelli disappeared.

"Sorry about this. But I can't just leave her alone-"

"Don't worry. It's clear that she needs to be in good company." Nadir said kindly. "And you are obviously the best available."

"I just copy what Meg does. Besides, the first rule of comforting a heartbroken friend is to assure her that the man involved is a complete and utter bastard." Christine shrugged.

She bent down to pick up Cat, who wandered across from her own apartment. He seemed to take it for granted that since Christine was here, he could be too. Luckily Erik didn't mind. She stroked Cat's soft fur and Nadir looked at him.

"I wasn't aware that you had a pet, Christine."

"I found him. Or he found me. Either way, he sticks around and I enjoy his company." Christine smiled. "It's nice to have someone waiting for you to come home."

"Am I insufficient to such a task?" Erik said, sounding rather putout. Nadir struggled to hide a smirk as Christine replied with a sideways glance at him.

"Certainly not. But cats don't answer back." She commented dryly.

* * *

Nadir insisted on escorting Sorelli home a few hours later. She was certainly in no condition to look after herself, so they left Erik and Christine sat on Erik's sofa.

"That was an exhausting evening." Christine muttered, leaning into Erik. He was sat with his legs on the sofa and she was laying between them, with her back against Erik's chest, his arms about her middle and his face resting against her hair.

"I couldn't possible disagree." He murmured. "Because if I did, you'd probably say I was just 'answering back'."

"Oh, don't be so petty." Christine smiled, wriggling to poke him in the ribs. But he held onto her too tightly and she soon gave up. She found that since they had been together, she delighted in little things like this. Just being in his company and knowing that he wanted her there was a wonderful sensation.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself, just for a moment, to be enveloped in him. The _exact_ way that his arms were around her, the _precise_ way that his cheek rested against her head, the way that he smelt of… what was that? A sort of mixture of spice, but less palpable, as though it were mixed with age and wood and books and music.

"Are you alright?" He murmured.

"Hmm." She confirmed. "A bit sleepy. Thank God it's Friday tomorrow. I love having the prospect of a free weekend."

"You realise, of course, that I plan to take over your whole weekend." Erik commented.

"I don't have any complaints about that." She was silent for a moment. "Tomorrow it'll have been a week since you got back from France."

"I know."

"It seems so much longer than that." Christine remarked.

"It has been an eventful week." Erik said. "There have been a lot of things to stretch the period."

"Tell me about it." She muttered darkly, remembering her unexpected visitor of Monday.

The clock struck midnight and Christine sat up.

"I'd better go and get some sleep." She said, rather reluctant to leave Erik's warm embrace.

"You could sleep here." Erik said quietly. She looked at him quickly.

"Erik-"

"I said… you could _sleep_ here." He repeated slowly. "I know that sleeping is all that you had in mind."

Christine considered it for a moment. And then stopped. Why consider it at all?

"I'll just go and clean up. I'll be back in a few minutes." She said. She crossed to her apartment, Cat at her heels. Christine quickly removed her make-up and brushed her hair before finding a set of pyjamas. A camisole and a pair of soft, drawstring pants, slightly too big for her. Cat watched curiously as she brushed her teeth.

"You'd better stay here, Cat." She said, patting his head. Cat gave her a scornful look and lay on her bed, stretching across the pillows.

She went nervously back to Erik's apartment. She heard him moving about in the bedroom and knocked lightly on the door before opening it. He was drawing thick red curtains across the windows, blocking out the garish light of the streetlamps. He was wearing only sleeping trousers and Christine paused to look once again at the scars on his back. She could clearly see now how they lay in threes. He turned and saw her.

For a moment they both stood uncertainly, neither of them sure of how to react next. Christine was the first to move. She went to him and pulled off his mask. His hand automatically lurched up to his face, but Christine caught it and pulled him over to the bed, putting the mask onto the bedside table.

"It can't be comfortable to sleep in." She said firmly, wriggling beneath the covers, a lot more daring than she actually felt. Erik hesitatingly slipped under the duvet.

Without even seeming to realise that they were doing it, Christine curled onto her side so her back was to Erik, so that he could mould himself to fit her shape. One of his rested lightly on her hip and his lips brushed against the back of her neck before he turned the light out.

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. I haven't wanted to update until I'd worked out a vague idea of what was going to happen in the next arc of the story. So this chapter is very much filler, although I enjoyed writing Christine and Erik in that awkward beginning-of-the-relationship stage, where neither of them is entirely sure of what to do. It's quite sweet really.**

**OK, a couple of people have asked if I'll be writing a smutty scene. The answer – very probably not. I just don't think that I could write something like that convincingly. I'm not comfortable with writing stuff like that. Although I AM going to try and go a littler further than I have in previous stories. Just to see if I can do that. But there will be no full on schmex. There are plenty of stories out there with that. Go find 'em.**

**Love**

**Katie**

**Oh, I forgot – you guys are AWESOME. I'm now on over 500 favourite lists. _500_! And the number of reviews for this story are ridiculous! (Not that I am complaining in any way, shape or form!)**


	23. Gathering The Past

**The Girl Next Door**

"We have a meeting first thing on Friday morning. Very important Hawthorn business." Firmin said across Christine's desk.

"Oh yes?"

"Apparently their new patron is going to be coming along. Very wealthy, wants to see how it all works and where his money is going."

"Not a problem. We'll put on a good show." Christine promised.

"I'd like you to man the stations for the first five minutes. I've got someone coming from an outside accountancy agency to check the books right beforehand."

"Fine, Richard."

"Thank you." He left her office and Christine noted the meeting down on her pad, wondering why Erik had mentioned it.

She chewed her lip, fighting back a slight smile. It had been nearly a month since she and Erik had first become a couple. This was the weekend that they would be going to Paris for the opening of _Il Muto_. She'd spoken to Firmin and they would be returning on Monday, granting them the luxury of two full days in the capital.

And, in what appeared to be an unspoken agreement between them, this weekend would be the first time that they would consummate their relationship, to put it in a sophisticated way. Meg and Sorelli both seemed amazed that it had taken them this long. It wasn't that Christine didn't _want_ to. She most certainly did.

But Erik wasn't just anybody. And this wouldn't be just anything.

This had to be… special.

And you couldn't get anymore special than a romantic weekend in Paris, to be frank. Christine brushed her hair behind her ears and looked back at the computer screen. She hadn't been with many other men before. One, actually. Raoul. And she doubted that it would be the same with Erik.

"Hey, sunshine. Coming for lunch?" Meg demanded, appearing in the doorway to Christine's office.

"Sure." She put the computer onto energy-save mode and pulled her handbag from the drawer in her desk. "Where are we going?"

"Just over to the café"

"I could use the caffeine." Christine commented, following Meg out of the office and joining Sorelli as they left the building.

"C'mon, Chris. It's Thursday. Only one more day until you'll be in France!" Sorelli said, linking arms with her. "Excited?"

"A bit." Christine admitted, downplaying her exact feelings. Meg snorted.

"A _bit_. Yeah, sure. Admit it, Christine, you are thrilled."

"I'm… not unexcited." Christine replied demurely. Meg laughed at her.

"Fine. Be that way. We all know you can't wait!"

With sandwiches and coffee, they returned to the office and sat around the coffee machine chatting about this, that and the other. Unfortunately, the main focus of their interest was Christine's weekend plans. Chewing on a ham sandwich, Sorelli commented,

"Where are you staying?"

"Erik has an apartment there."

"You know how to pick them, I'll give you that. I've got to find me a sex-on-legs guy who owns his own apartment in France!" Sorelli grinned. Christine scowled at her.

"I'd _really_ prefer it if you didn't talk about him like that!"

"Protective much? Anyway, I am a man-free zone at the moment." Sorelli promised. "Nothing but trouble, as far as I'm concerned."

"Come to think of it, none of us has had much luck with men recently." Meg said vaguely. "I mean, I've got Matt but before that I was all over the place. Christine's got a failed marriage in the bag-"

"And _thank you_ for bringing that up." Christine sniped.

"And you're up the duff without a man." Meg finished, glancing at Sorelli, who arched an eyebrow.

"That was quite an ego-booster, Meg, thanks."

"You're welcome."

Meg and Sorelli began to discuss baby names, something that Sorelli was taking great delight in thinking about. Christine ate her sandwich, only half listening to their conversation. Her mind wandered to that evening, when she would be asking Erik a _very_ important question.

* * *

"Will you teach me to sing again?"

Erik looked across at her, his face appearing over the top of the local newspaper. She was sat cross-legged in an armchair, Cat curled between her legs and a serious expression on her face.

"Yes."

"Oh… good." She smiled. "I've been a bit nervous about asking again."

"I've been waiting for you to ask. I didn't want to suggest it in case you were unwilling. We can begin on Monday, if you wish. I fear that the rest of this week will be too chaotic to contemplate the notion just now." He said

"Yes. Did you know about this meeting tomorrow?" Christine asked. Erik shook his head.

"Nadir mentioned it very briefly."

"I didn't know you were getting a new patron either."

"Neither did I. The Hawthorn is very much self-sufficient but apparently it never hurts to get some rich individuals involved." Erik commented, folding the newspaper and tossing it idly onto the coffee table. "I'll be meeting him on Friday also."

"You haven't met him yet?"

"I produce the shows, Christine; I don't care how Nadir manages the financial side. What would you like lasagne for dinner?"

They crossed over to Erik's apartment, where he began to prepare a lasagne. As he did so, he asked,

"Have you any particular monument you'd care to visit in Paris?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. Perhaps the Notre Dame." Christine said thoughtfully, "If we have time, obviously. Oh, and I'd like to see the Eiffel Tower."

"If we get away quickly tomorrow afternoon, we could visit the Eiffel Tower tomorrow evening. We could see Notre Dame on Saturday morning." Erik said. Christine smiled.

"I'm really getting excited about it!"

Erik smiled slightly, glancing at her.

"Really?"

"Yes. I've never done anything like this before. I've never been with anyone before who's even remotely interested in this sort of thing." She grinned. "Of course, I've never been with an intellect like you before."

"Such praise is a little extravagant."

"No, it isn't." Christine objected and Erik smirked.

"I said a _little_."

"And modest. Did I neglect to mention your utmost modesty?" Christine said in a sweetly sarcastic tone. Erik simply poured her some wine and she shook her head, smiling.

"Have you packed everything?" She asked.

"For the most part."

"What does that mean?" She demanded suspiciously.

"It means that everything will be packed in time and you needn't worry yourself about it." He said firmly. "Good grief, Christine, you can relax."

"I am relaxed. I'm just ensuring that the weekend goes perfectly." Christine insisted. "I don't want anything to go wrong."

"And nothing will." Erik said, looking at her with a diminutive smile. "So stop panicking."

* * *

"I just need to call by the theatre for a few things before I go to the meeting." Erik said as they left Gaston Place on Friday morning. "I'll be there at five past at the latest."

"No problem, I'll hold it all off for a few minutes." Christine said. She kissed him quickly before moving off towards Populaire Advertising.

Meg and Sorelli were in Christine's office when she arrived.

"Hey Christine. Ready?" Meg asked. Christine nodded and patted her hair.

"Do I look OK?"

"Very professional." Sorelli assured her. Christine tugged at her skirt, straightening it.

"Why am I so nervous?"

"Because this patron is funding Erik's work?"

"Yes, that's probably it. I mean, even _Erik_ hasn't met him yet, so why should I be nervous about it?" She muttered, rifling through her folders to make sure that she had everything.

Jammes looked in.

"Christine, Firmin's finished early with the accountant and they're both coming to the meeting. I've put an extra chair out but we should get to the boardroom. Oh, and Mr Khan is here with the new patron."

"Thanks Jammes." Christine picked up her things and took a deep breath. "Well… here goes." Meg linked arms with her, grinning.

"Once more into the breach, dear friends!"

They walked across to the boardroom. Christine cast a glance back at her friends, who gave her encouraging smiles. She opened the door and they walked in.

Or, at least, they tried to walk in. But Christine had come to a dead halt in the doorway at what she saw in the boardroom.

Nadir was introducing the new patron to Carlotta, Firmin and his accountant. The accountant happened to be Stuart.

And the patron happened to be Raoul de Chagny.

And they all looked over at the door as it opened.

"Christine?" Raoul and Stuart said together. Meg gasped in mortified amazement, Raoul and Stuart looked at each other in confusion and Christine dropped her folder. She hastily bent down and picked it up. Sorelli peered at the two men and Jammes was stood nearby in bewilderment and the uncomfortable aura of the room. Nadir cleared his throat.

"Is… something wrong?"

"Christine, I…" Stuart began. Raoul looked at him.

"How do you know Chrissie?"

"This is _unbelievable_!" Meg said in incredulity.

"Is there a particular reason why we're all standing in the doorway?" Said a voice behind them. Christine closed her eyes in despairing horror as Erik arrived.

This was _not_ happening.

Erik moved inside and looked from Stuart to Raoul to Christine. Raoul frowned.

"Hey, aren't you…?"

"Oh my _God_." Christine moaned, throwing her folder onto the table. Carlotta folded her arms in irritation.

"Isn't anyone going to explain what's going on?"

"I'd quite like to know myself." Erik said icily, seeing both of Christine's exes in the room. Everyone looked at Christine, who was rubbing her temples. She had something of a migraine coming on. She took a deep breath.

"We have a meeting. I suggest we start it." She said firmly.

"But-" Carlotta began but Christine turned a glare on her.

"If you have a problem with that, Carlotta, I suggest you leave. We have business to conduct."

Christine moved to her seat and began to unpack her work, painfully aware of everyone watching her as they moved to sit down. Sorelli and Meg sat on either side of her, almost protectively. Christine began straight away on the meeting.

"I've got all the progress on the _Hannibal_ project here. I've asked Jammes to sit in with us since one of her designs is going in. These are the posters that were selected and these programmes are still being chosen from…"

How she got through the meeting, Christine never figured out. She just kept talking and talking until everything had been mentioned, when she put her pen down and said,

"Any questions?"

"Yes, who's this guy?" Raoul said, gesturing at Stuart, who looked rather affronted. Christine clenched her jaw.

"Any questions regarding the project, Mr de Chagny?"

"Oh. No, I got everything."

"Mr Khan, Mr Destler?" She looked across at them. They shook their heads.

"Good. Richard, have you got anything to add?" Christine asked. Firmin shook his head, silently bewildered. Christine settled back in her chair.

"Then that's all."

"I'll have some coffee brought in." Firmin said and left the room.

Everyone looked at Christine, who was slumped in her chair. Carlotta leant forward.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?"

"Quite frankly, Carlotta, it's none of your business." Christine said quietly. She rose from her chair and went to open the window. Raoul stood too.

"Chris, are you going to explain what's going on?"

"Actually I'd quite like an explanation too." Christine said, turning on him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"My brother got me involved with it; the family's sponsoring the Hawthorn Theatre. But why is he here? And who's that?" He looked at Erik and Stuart respectively. Nadir cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused…"

"Join the club." Jammes added.

Something broke inside Christine. She turned furiously on them.

"If you absolutely _must_ know, this is what's going on. Raoul was my husband for two years. We divorced nearly a year ago. Stuart, over there, was my boyfriend for about four months a while after Raoul and I divorced. But Stuart and I broke up and now I'm with Erik, who writes the operas for the Hawthorn, which is why he's here. And I would dearly love to know what bad karma I have earned for getting my ex-husband, my ex-boyfriend and my current boyfriend all in the same room at the same time!" She spat at them.

There was stunned silence. And then Meg said,

"Maybe you ran over a puppy."

Christine just stared at her for a moment before walking out. Firmin was just coming back.

"Christine, what's going on?"

"Not now, Richard." She muttered, walking past. But the boardroom door opened and Erik stepped out.

"Christine?"

She stopped but didn't turn to look at him. Erik watched her.

"Christine…" He didn't know what to say. He moved a little closer and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked at him miserably.

"That was…"

"Disastrous?"

"…Yes." She mumbled. Erik drew her into his arms and she buried her face in his shirt. Erik closed his eyes for a few moments.

"You couldn't have known that this would happen." He said softly.

"But _how_? The chances are a million to one that all three of you would end up at this meeting." She whispered.

"It doesn't matter. I suggest we go back in, have coffee, pretend everything's alright and look forward to the weekend."

This seemed like a very sensible suggestion. Christine clasped his hand.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't plan this."

"Absolutely not! This is some kind of hellish nightmare." She said as they returned to the boardroom. Stuart and Raoul were casting each other peculiar glances from opposite ends of the room. Carlotta was looking very entertained by the whole affair. Meg and Sorelli were whispering frantically to each other whilst Jammes poured coffee. Nadir and Firmin were discussing one of the programmes. Everyone peered around as Erik and Christine entered. They instantly released each other's hands. An unspoken law between them – not at the office.

Christine helped herself to a cup of coffee and joined Meg and Sorelli. Erik was talking with Nadir, who seemed to be demanding an explanation.

"So… that was unbelievably awkward." Meg said airily.

"And you _really_ didn't help with that puppy comment." Christine told her.

"I know. I just couldn't resist saying it." She grinned.

"So, um… are you going to talk to them?" Sorelli asked quietly. Christine glanced briefly at Stuart. He was talking with Jammes, who was showing him her design, clearly very proud of herself. Raoul had been accosted by Carlotta, who was talking incessantly at him, not appearing to have noticed that he was watching Christine.

"Not Raoul." She said quietly. "Excuse me…"

She moved over to Stuart. He looked up from the programme designs, a guarded expression on his face.

"Stuart, I just wanted to apologise for Raoul. He shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"Why are you apologising for him?" Stuart asked. "You're not responsible for his actions."

"Because he's not going to and someone should." Christine said, a little crossly. "So you can either accept the apology or not."

"…I'll accept it. But only because you're getting that look on your face which means you're going to hit something." Stuart muttered. Christine frowned.

"What look?"

"The look you have right now."

"You're weird, Stuart." Christine muttered. He shrugged.

"All part of my charm."

"Just keep telling yourself that." She looked at her watch. "I'd actually better go and do some work."

Apparently Firmin was thinking the same thing. Coffee cups were placed on the table and handshakes were passed around. Christine hung back until everyone was leaving. Erik waited by the door for her.

"I'll pick you up at four." He said and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Alright?"

"Alright." She murmured. Raoul was waiting nearby, standing with Nadir. He opened his mouth to speak as Christine passed but she simply nodded with a smile to Nadir and walked straight past to her office, where she promptly closed the door.

* * *

"This is most inconvenient, Erik." Nadir said darkly as they drove back to the theatre. "Of all the women in the world, you have to fall in love with our patron's ex-wife."

"My apologies, Nadir, I'll try and choose a little more carefully next time." Erik muttered sarcastically. Nadir rolled his eyes.

"I am simply stating that you cannot allow personal feelings to interfere with your work."

"Have I ever done so before?" Erik demanded.

"No, but I have never seen you so enamoured with someone as you are with Christine Daae. True, I never witnessed you with Anna, but no one can have captivated you so much if you've not been with someone in the seven years since her death."

Erik didn't reply. He made a left turn and then said in a calm voice,

"Whatever my relationship with Christine is, it shall never interfere with my music. Even Anna could not tear me from my music if I chose not to be. You can have that guarantee, Nadir."

"Good. In which case, I suggest that you avoid Mr de Chagny at all possible opportunities and have a wonderful weekend in Paris." Nadir said as they pulled into the car park at the theatre.

* * *

Christine's suitcase was waiting by the door, as was Erik's. They carried them out to the car and began the drive to Sorelli's house to drop off Cat, who was peering out of the window curiously. With a few instructions and a quick hug of the purring animal, Christine returned to the car, closed the door and put on her seatbelt.

"Let's go." She smiled. Erik looked at her sideways.

"You've cheered up considerably."

"I think being out of the office helps. Meg and Sorelli have been teasing me all day about that bloody meeting. Who else could this happen to but me?" Christine sighed.

"You seemed to be on good terms with Stuart Wilkins." Erik said in a way that was slightly too casual. Christine looked over at him, smiling.

"Are you jealous?"

"Should I be?"

"Of course not. No, I was just apologising for Raoul's behaviour. I'm not entirely sure why but it seemed like I should."

Erik didn't reply. Christine chewed her lip absently.

"Anyway, I'd be glad if I never see him again. And Stuart… well, I don't really know about that. I'd like to be friends but it doesn't seem very likely."

"I see."

"Are you angry?"

"No."

"I think you are." Christine said quietly. "Don't be. I don't want either of them. Only you."

She turned to look out of the window at the passing houses as Erik continued to drive in silence. And then he reached across and wrapped his fingers around her palm as he drove.

**A/N: I don't like this chapter at all. It's all contrived and predictable but unfortunately necessary to move the plot along. So please forgive me.**

** I love it that nearly everyone who reviewed the last chapter beggged me NOT to write a sex scene! Lol, fair enough. I probably couldn't do it anyway! And besides, why ruin the mystery? I'll let your imaginations run wild!**

** Next chapter: Paris!**

**Love**

**Katie **


	24. By The Lights Of Paris

**The Girl Next Door**

The apartment in Paris was a generously sized affair, a little smaller than their apartments in England, but still large enough to pronounce Erik's garnered wealth. Large bay windows led onto a small balcony overlooking the bustling city.

"No romantic view of the Eiffel Tower, I'm afraid. That would be in the opposite direction, but still in an impressive sight, don't you think?" Erik commented as Christine went to admire the view. She smiled.

"Very impressive."

"We can go and see the Tower this evening, once it gets dark. One should only ever witness the Eiffel Tower by night." Erik said firmly.

"I'll go and put my things away." Christine said. Erik followed her into the bedroom to show her where everything was. When he reached her, she was holding a small, framed photograph and examining it closely, her brows contracted into a vague frown.

Erik's chest tightened as he saw her looking at it. She looked up.

"Is this Anna?"

"Yes." He said after a moment.

"She's beautiful." Christine said softly, admiring the woman in the picture. How cruel, that such beauty had been ripped from the world. Erik didn't reply. He seemed almost nervous. Christine quickly put the picture down.

"I'm sorry, I was just… I'm sorry."

"No."

He picked up the picture, turned to a chest of drawers and placed it in one of the drawers.

"I should have taken it down a long time ago. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even know it was there. You become accustomed to seeing things and then you don't see them at all." He commented. Christine watched him.

"Erik, if you want to leave it out-"

"I don't." He said shortly, effectively ending the conversation.

Once they had unpacked everything, Erik suggested they go for dinner until the sun had set. Christine readily agreed.

"I don't speak very good French." She warned him.

"I am fluent, we won't have any trouble." He promised, taking her hand. "Come. Let me show you Paris properly."

* * *

The restaurant he chose was evidently one he knew well. An understated but charming place with friendly staff and delicious food. Once Erik had helped her to understand everything on the menu, they ordered and drank wine as they waited for the food to arrive.

"Monsieur Destler!" Cried a female voice. Christine and Erik both looked around to see a young woman with white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes coming over, her youthful face lit up in a bright smile.

"Adele." Erik said, getting to his feet and kissing her hand. They instantly began to speak in quick French. Christine sat, a little bewildered, and to her surprise, a little jealous as she watched the pair interact.

After a moment Erik turned to her.

"Christine, this is Adele Latouchia. She was my assistant at the Opera House here. Adele, Christine Daae."

"Ah, Mademoiselle Daae, you are the one who was waiting, yes?" Adele asked in a pretty accent. Christine blinked.

"Waiting?"

"For Monsieur Destler to return to England. He was waiting too." She smiled. Christine looked at Erik. He seemed to be holding himself a little tensely.

"You are here for _Il Muto_?" Adele asked them both.

"Yes."

"Ah, it is wonderful! You will enjoy it very much. But I must be excused, my friend is waiting. It was lovely to meet you, Mademoiselle Daae." She flashed them a smile before moving to join a young man who had just entered. Christine looked at Erik.

"She seems nice."

"She's not quite so terrified. She was an absolute quivering wreck when I first started working there." Erik commented

After they had finished eating, they stepped out into the dark street again. Christine wrapped her arm around Erik's as they walked.

"Is it far to the Eiffel Tower?" She asked.

"Not too far." He pointed over the skyline of some buildings and she caught a glimpse of the illuminated structure. A smile split her face and they walked a little faster. People walked past, talking in French and laughing. Nobody noticed the couple walking down the street, despite Erik's mask. Christine loved the anonymity of the place. She could be anyone and anything here and no one would know. The disastrous meeting of that morning was a million miles away from her and she could forget all about it.

After paying a few francs, they stepped into the elevator and sped up the lit tower. Christine felt like a little child, excited and impatient. Erik watched her with a smirk as they stepped out onto the tower. She immediately rushed to the edge, staring out at the city.

"You can see _everything_!" She laughed. "Look, the Arc de Triomphe!"

She moved from spot to spot, darting past the few other people that were up there to point out landmarks or sights.

"Erik, it's _beautiful_." She said, turning back to him. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Very beautiful."

"Look at all the lights and-"

"I was not," He said, moving closer and tilting her chin, "Referring to the city."

Christine lifted her hands to put her arms around her neck as he pulled her closer, their bodies pressing together. One of his arms was around her waist and the other was in her hair as he kissed her powerfully.

He couldn't stop. Ever since that first kiss he had wanted to do this, had wanted to be with her like this. The only thing holding him back had been the knowledge that she was not ready. Now he knew that she was and he wouldn't, couldn't stop what would happen that night.

After several long moments they parted their mouths and looked at each other. The look in Christine's eyes, the dark intensity in her brown depths confirmed his thoughts. Without speaking a word, they walked swiftly back to the elevator.

* * *

They drove in silence back to the apartment. Erik unlocked the door and they went into the living room. Christine took off her jacket and shoes before looking at him. He was watching her closely.

For some reason, Christine felt terribly nervous. What if he didn't want to? What if she was a disappointment to him? She swallowed and licked her lips anxiously. Erik moved towards her and lifted a hand. She held herself perfectly still as his fingers ran over the scar on her cheek, tracing it before moving over her other features, her nose, the outline of her eyes, exploring her features as she had done the night that his mask had been taken away. She closed her eyes, tensing at the sensation of his fingertips against her skin.

Erik surveyed Christine as he touched her face. She hardly seemed to be breathing, looking almost as though she were a mannequin rather than a living person. He slid his hand down her arm to take her hand, lifting to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to the palm. Her eyes slid open again as she watched him.

"Christine…" He whispered her name so softly, she wasn't sure that she hadn't just imagined it. Her fingers touched his shirt and she slowly began to unbutton the fabric. He shrugged the shirt off and then bent to lift her off her feet in a sudden rush of energy. Christine gasped but didn't speak as he carried her swiftly to the bedroom.

In the dimness of the room, Erik lowered her and she instantly pulled her shirt over her head. Erik didn't pause but lowered his head to kiss her again, pulling his mouth away before the kiss could deepen. He pressed his lips to her cheek, to her neck, to her shoulder. Christine let out another quiet gasp as his teeth caught against her collarbone. Erik lifted his head and Christine took advantage of his pause to lift the mask from his face. Instinctively he tried to cover it but she pushed his hand away to kiss his mutated skin.

"Don't _ever_ hide from me." She whispered. "I want _you_, not a mask."

"I don't deserve you." He said softly, closing his eyes.

"I don't deserve _anything_. I'm the fortunate one here." Christine murmured, kissing him. "Erik, I want you. I just want to be with you."

She spoke so sincerely. So honestly. How could such sweet words be a lie? Erik chose to believe them instead, as he moved her towards the bed.

* * *

What happened was… _extraordinary_. Erik lay afterwards, his mind numbed and his blood pounding as he felt Christine's skin against his own, her sleeping form curled closely to him.

How very different it had been from anyone else. How wonderfully new and different. He could not have imagined anything like this. That was the only thing that stopped him thinking that it may have been only a beautiful dream.

Slowly his mind began to clear and he felt things properly again. The now-cool sweat that lay against his face and torso, the silkiness of the sheets, the soft warmth of this angel beside him.

How kind life could be. How sweet fate could be. He was positive that he had done nothing in his life to deserve such beauty. Yet it had been granted to him nonetheless.

He brushed a stray curl from Christine's face. She twitched as the hair tickled and her eyes opened again.

"That tickles."

"Sorry." He muttered. She rubbed her face against his chest and yawned.

"Haven't you slept?"

"No."

"…Are you alright?" She asked, lifting her face to look at him. Her expression was one of anxiety and concern.

Erik smiled. He couldn't help it. He smiled and nodded, pulling her towards him.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Oh. Good." She said, relieved. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

"So I have."

"Are you excited?"

"I suppose." He said, with a shrug, still smiling. No need to admit that he would gladly miss the whole affair and stay here with Christine. He'd be glad to never even leave the apartment again. Christine smiled.

"Do you know that's the longest I've ever seen you smile for?"

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm."

"You, Christine, are the cause of _that_." He said, planting light kisses on her shoulder. She traced a finger over his chest.

"I'm glad to be of such service to you." She whispered. "And now I don't feel at all tired."

"What a pity. Now we shall have to find some way to pass the time." Erik said lightly. "What would you care for? Music? I have a chess set. Or perhaps you'd like to-"

She cut him off with a deep kiss.

"Stop teasing!" She told him firmly. "And that's another first."

"You bring out the best in me." He told her solemnly. She lifted an eyebrow.

"Let's see how much there is to bring out."

* * *

The Paris Opera House was a spectacular building. But Christine had no time to admire it as Erik whisked her up the front steps, his hand on her waist protectively. A medley of marble and gold met Christine's eyes as he led her into an enormous auditorium. People were milling around, talking in quick French and sipping from water bottles or stretching muscles, or testing instruments. Christine longed to stop and watch but Erik guided her towards the stage, where a gentleman with a thick beard and moustache was talking to the woman from the restaurant, Adele.

"Monsieur Destler!" He cried as he caught sight of him, moving to shake his hand warmly. His eyes fell upon Christine. "_Et qui est cette belle femme_?"

"Monsieur Karon, Christine Daae. Christine, this is the producer of _Il Muto_, Marco Karon." Erik said. Karon planted a kiss on Christine's hand.

"A pleasure, Mademoiselle. You are both joining us tonight?"

"We are, Monsieur. I merely wanted to see how things were going."

"Ah! Everything is perfect!" Karon said, beaming. "Adele has been helping me and is very good."

Adele smiled.

"You are seeing our fair city, Mademoiselle?"

"We visited the Eiffel Tower last night and we are on our way to see Notre Dame." Christine replied.

"You will _adore_ Notre Dame." Adele assured her. Karon touched Erik's arm and spoke briefly in French. Erik looked at Christine.

"I will only be a moment."

The pair moved away and Adele smiled at Christine.

"Come and meet some of the performers."

"Can I?"

"_Oui_, any friend of Monsieur Destler's is welcome! _Il Muto_ is bound to be a success." Adele said, leading her to a small group gathered beside the stage. They were gossiping together and peered interestedly at Christine.

"Marisa plays the Countess and Alexander is the Count." Adele said, gesturing to a pair, who eagerly came to meet this woman who appeared to have enchanted their masked superior. Marisa spoke to her in French and Christine looked at her, a little embarrassed as Adele explained that she spoke little of their language.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle Daae. I enquired how long you have been with Monsieur Destler." Marisa said sweetly. Christine flushed slightly, glancing back at Erik.

"Er… not long. A month."

"Such swift love!" Marisa said with a light laugh. Alexander winked at Christine before putting a hand on her shoulder.

"You must be an enchanting and engaging lady to break his ice. I have never worked with a man so solemn!" He said warmly. Christine laughed.

"Well, we have known each other for almost seven months already. We were good friends."

"Why be friends when you can be more?" Alexander smirked.

Christine flushed again and then jumped as Erik appeared at her side. His eyes went pointedly to Alexander's hand, which still lay on her shoulder. Alexander hastily removed it as Marisa engaged Erik in conversation. Christine tried to understand but gave up almost instantly. She looked up at the stage, where dancers were running through the ballet from Act three. It was a charming piece and she smiled delightedly at the talented women as they soared across the stage to music she knew so well.

"They're good, aren't they?" Erik commented.

"Amazing." Christine replied. Erik took her hand.

"We should be on our way. I don't want you to see too much."

* * *

"Erik, can you zip me up?" Christine called. Erik emerged from the bathroom to see Christine struggling with the zip on the back of her dress. He smirked.

"Why?"

"So we can go and see the opera that everyone in that opera house has worked so hard on." Christine said, eying him.

"But you look so much more engaging without the dress."

"Erik…"

His smirk widened and he stepped across to her, sliding the zip up the back of the dress. Christine shook her hair out and turned to look up at him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He said and kissed her. She laced her arms around his waist and he reached for the zip. She pulled her face back and lifted an eyebrow.

"We'll be late if you start now."

"They'll survive."

"No! Erik, you are going to that opera and you're going to enjoy it!" Inwardly she marvelled. One night together had turned him into a complete… _animal_.

Not to say that she didn't enjoy the fact. But it did get in the way of pressing engagements.

They drove to the opera house and Erik led her through the crowd to some stairs.

"Private box?" She asked.

"Of course." Erik replied. "Box Five, it provides the best view of the stage."

"I can't wait to see it again." Christine said excitedly. He smiled down at her.

"It hasn't been that long since you saw it, has it?"

"Several months." Christine pointed out. "Back before you came here for those months."

"Ah. I suppose it has been quite a while."

He held back a curtain and she stepped into the box. There were two seats in the balcony and they sat. Christine leant forward to admire the stage and watch the crowd pouring in.

"This is incredible!" She smiled. "How can you not be excited?"

"I hide it remarkably well." He said wryly. Christine laughed and he took her hand in his, caressing the fingers softly as the lights dimmed and the overture began.

* * *

After what can only be described as an excellent performance, Christine and Erik descended to the crowd. Monsieur Karon pushed through to greet them.

"Monsieur Destler! What a marvellous success!"

"Indeed. I was most impressed." Erik assured him. Karon turned to Christine.

"And you, Mademoiselle Daae?"

"It was amazing." Christine smiled. "I loved it!"

"Generous but deserved praise! You must join us for a drink, both of you!" Karon insisted.

Erik was not entirely happy about that. Whilst he knew it was expected of him to have a celebratory drink, the idea of being alone with Christine was extremely inviting.

"Thank you, but no. It has been a long day and we are both very tired." Erik said. Karon looked vaguely disappointed.

"I see. No matter, you will come and see us again?"

"Of course, Monsieur. _Bon Nuit_." Erik said, steering Christine towards the door.

"We should have stayed." She said as they climbed into the car. "You should celebrate your success!"

"There will be other opportunities to do that. I doubt we will find time again soon to have a weekend in Paris." Erik reminded her.

"That's a good point." She said airily.

Whilst she listened to the radio on the way back to the apartment, Erik pondered her. How had this happened? Once he would have stayed, greeted the critics, spoken to the performers and congratulated. But now all he could think about was her. She filled him, sweetly intoxicating his senses with her presence.

"When did it begin?" She asked as they entered the apartment.

"What?"

"You. And me. I mean, I know _when_. But when did you first start…?" She left the question unfinished. Erik slipped his jacket off, dropping it onto the sofa.

"I first wanted you when I saw you in the white dress."

"White dress?"

"You were going to some affair of Stuart Wilkins's." He said, looking at her. She lifted her eyebrows.

"That was ages ago!"

"That was when I wanted you." He said quietly, cupping her cheek with a hand, running his thumb over the silver scar. "I first _needed_ you in the bar after _Il Muto_ was performed for the very first time."

"The bar at the Hawthorn?"

"Yes. You kissed my cheek and embraced me and I needed you more than anything in my life." He said. "But I couldn't have you."

"Because of Stuart."

"He knew. I saw him watching us and I could tell from his eyes that he knew."

Christine gazed at him.

"You felt like that for so long… and you never told me."

"I did try. But you ran away screaming." He reminded her with a slight smile. She blushed.

"I didn't scream. I shouted, but I didn't scream."

"It didn't invoke much confidence on my part, whatever it was." Erik said dryly. Christine smiled.

"I just didn't expect it. I frightened me."

He lifted an eyebrow and she tried to explain.

"I _think_… it was because I wanted you too. I mean, I didn't realise it at the time, I really didn't. I couldn't understand it at all. But the thought of being happy was terrifying."

"Why are you so afraid to be happy?"

"Stuart asked me the same thing when I broke up with him." Christine said, looking down. "He told me I was a coward for being afraid of happiness. Because whenever I've had it before, it's always been a lie."

"He did?"

"Yes. In fact, he was the one who told me to come and find you. He asked me if I had feelings for you and I said that I didn't want to live a life that didn't have you in it."

Erik's mind was stuffy and this information was taking twice as long to process.

"You said that?"

"Yes. So I went to find you, to tell you the truth."

"And… you found Carlotta."

"Hmm. It wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting." Christine said sardonically. Erik's eyebrows lifted.

"No, I can't imagine that it was."

He slipped his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his.

"But it turned out rather well in the end, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, I'd say. I'd definitely say." Christine grinned. "_Now_ you can undo the zip."

* * *

Christine rose in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. When she returned to the bed, Erik had rolled onto his side. Christine sat on the edge of the bed and examined the scars across his back, mauve and silver streaks against the pale skin. It was a lattice of scars; they must have beaten him countless times. How much pain had he suffered before their appetites were sated?

Never. Never again, would she let him be hurt like that, Christine decided solemnly, softly tracing one of the scars with a fingertip. Never.

She lay down and pressed her cheek against his back as she held him in her arms, the reverse of how they usually slept.

_Oh, Erik… isn't it time that somebody kept _you _safe?_

_

* * *

_

They spent a luxurious Sunday morning in bed, talking quietly and sharing everything that had seemed so unimportant before but was now of the utmost significance.

"I didn't even know your name when we met in the elevator." Christine said, lying the wrong way on the bed, so she was next to Erik's feet and facing him.

"I didn't know yours either."

"I only found it out because I looked at the name on the intercom." She said idly. "That was the night I got attacked by Buqet and you saved me."

"You very much saved yourself. I merely cleaned up afterwards." Erik said, leaning against the headboard. "I was rather surprised. You'd left looking incredible and come back a mess."

"It had been a weird evening. Meg was on the pull and she dragged me along." Christine said, stretching her arms over her head. "That was the night we met Matt and Stuart."

"Hmm."

"Don't get grumpy." Christine said, digging her toes into his ribs. He caught her foot and smirked.

"I'm not grumpy."

"Besides, we know how well _that_ worked out." Christine pointed out. "And if it hadn't been for Stuart, you never would have seen me in that dress and you'd never have liked me like this."

Her voice was teasing and Erik rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't the _dress_. I'd only ever seen you in jeans and t-shirts before then. It was something of a revelation. I realised that you were a woman."

"What? I rather thought that these might have given it away." Christine said, glancing down at her chest. Erik's eyebrow arched.

"Obviously I knew you were a woman. But you were suddenly… a _woman_."

"Are you trying to make things better? Because you're really not very good at it."

He let out an exasperated sigh and tugged her foot. She gasped, slipped a couple of inches and then laughed as Erik smirked at her.

"Erik!"

"Yes?"

"You can be very childish sometimes." She said mock-haughtily. Erik simply pulled her foot again so she fell down onto the bed, laughing. "Stop it!"

"Why?"

"Because…" She couldn't actually think of a reason. Erik tugged her foot more gently.

"Because?"

"…I don't know."

Erik chuckled quietly and glanced at the clock.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"I know a rather good café a few streets away…"

"Would that involve getting out of bed?" Christine asked.

"I'm afraid so." He said. "On the other hand, I could make something here."

"That sounds much more appealing." Christine grinned. Erik climbed out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown. He looked down at her.

"Unfortunately I only have the one dressing gown so you'll have to wander around the apartment completely naked."

"Or I could get dressed." Christine said. Erik smiled slightly.

"If you prefer…"

She found a t-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms and pulled them on as Erik disappeared to the kitchen cum living room. She went into the living room and grimaced as she caught her reflection.

"Jesus, I'm a mess."

"Nonsense, you never looked lovelier." Erik commented. Christine smiled, shaking her head.

"I have never seen you in such a good mood before! It's amazing."

"You have a positive effect on my attitude." Erik said.

"But I've never seen you so open before. Teasing, and laughing…"

"If you don't like it I could be withdrawn and irritable."

"No! No, I love it like this." Christine smiled, sitting on a stool. "I love seeing you so happy."

Erik began to brew coffee. It was only as he lowered his face to look into the refrigerator for milk and felt the coolness of the machine on his skin that he realised that he wasn't wearing his mask. And that he hadn't even noticed its absence.

**A/N: Fluff all over the place. But I like fluff. So there. Like it or lump it! **

**Updates are going to become considerably less frequent. Schoolwork is approaching disaster stage and requires complete attention from me. So I apologise for anyone long waits. I'll try and get at least one chapter up a week, but no promises. Wah. I hate that.**

**Well – I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I liked writing this one, it's nice to write proper interaction between Erik and Christine, especially letting Erik open up a bit more.**

**Oh, and I forgot to do this last chapter so I'll do it this time instead. This chapter is dedicated to Nabira! She made me a doll of Christine in her black and red dress when she goes to see _Il Muto_ for the first time. She even put a little scar on her cheek! Love, adore and appreciate her work at**

**http :** **/i29 . photobucket . com / albums / c253 / Nabira / ChristineGND . gif **

**Remove the spaces and view to your hearts content! **

**Love**

**Katie**


	25. Waiting For You

**The Girl Next Door**

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Meg chirped on Tuesday morning as Christine arrived for work, having taken Monday off to return from Paris. "How was your weekend?"

"Very nice, thank you." Christine said, unable to help the smile from spreading across her face.

"Oh, I know that look." Sorelli said, grinning. "So… are we getting any details?"

"Absolutely not. How was Cat?"

"Angelic. How was Erik?" Sorelli replied smoothly. Christine rolled her eyes, getting coffee from the machine.

"Stop! I have work to get on with and I don't feel like sharing anything of my weekend with you two. Unlike you, I'm not one to kiss and tell."

"Ah! So there was kissing involved!" Meg gasped mockingly.

Christine laughed and headed for her office. Firmin followed her in.

"Recovered from Friday's meeting?" He asked.

"Very much so and ready to get back to work. What have you got for me?" Christine said, putting her handbag into the drawer of the desk.

"Some editing and some concerns." Firmin said, sitting down. Christine looked at him quickly.

"Concern?"

"About yourself and Mr Destler. I know you've always been very serious about your work and the Hawthorn is a big part of our business. But working with both Mr Destler and Mr de Chagny-"

"Richard, _please_ don't be implying what I think you're implying." Christine said flatly.

"I just want to ensure that this isn't going to interfere with the quality of work that you have always provided us with." Firmin assured her.

"You don't have anything to worry about. That's something Erik and I have in common – we're workaholics."

Firmin smiled, his moustache bristling.

"Good. I knew I could count on you."

"Of course you can." Christine said, picking up the folder he'd left on the desk as he exited the room.

She worked solidly up to lunch and managed to catch up on almost all the work she'd missed over the weekend and on Monday. At lunchtime Meg threw open her door.

"Sorelli's got sandwiches, cakes, coffee and three seats around the coffee machine. It's gossiping time." She commanded. Christine blinked at her.

"What?"

"Come!"

Meg dragged her from the office and sat her down in a chair, Meg and Sorelli planted on either side of her.

"OK, so go through the entire weekend step-by-step! With details!" Meg said.

"Not too many details. I mean, we don't need to know every little thing. But a fuzzy picture is good!" Sorelli put in. Christine sighed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to get away without giving a few things.

"Well, we got there Friday night, went out to a restaurant for dinner and then went to the Eiffel Tower, whilst it was all lit up."

"Wow! Was it nice?"

"It was amazing." Christine smiled. "The city looked fantastic and… well, we kissed. And then we went back to the apartment."

She stopped and Meg let out an exasperated groan.

"Come _on_, Christine. Spill."

"And we… you know." Christine muttered, blushing. Somehow it felt a little too _private_ to share like this.

"Yes?" Sorelli smiled.

"Oh, for crying out loud, yes, we did it. _It_. Sex. Made love, did the dirty, got it on, whatever you want to call it, we did it." Christine said, a little aggressively. Meg let out a delighted laugh.

"What was it _like_? I mean, he seems like a pretty intense sort of guy when he's just during a business meeting so I'm guessing he's going to be _very_ intense in the bedroom." She said.

"Meg!" Christine said, appalled.

"What? C'mon, Chris, share!"

"No! I don't want to give you all the details. And you shouldn't ask either, it's rude!"

Sorelli and Meg exchanged a glance.

"Well… couldn't you just tell us a few of the details? Not all of them. Just some." Sorelli asked sweetly. Christine eyed her.

"Like what?"

"What was it like? Good, bad, OK…"

"It was…" Christine tried to think of the right word. "Intense, as Meg put it."

"Good intense?"

"Definitely good intense." Christine affirmed. "I don't know what to say, I've never felt like that before. It was so different from anything else I've ever felt."

She sipped her coffee and picked at her sandwich, staring down at the crumbled bread.

"I don't know if it was just because we both wanted it so much, or being in Paris, or whatever but I felt so different. He made me feel like I was the only thing in the whole world, like everything else was worthless. Does that even make sense?" She looked up and caught Meg and Sorelli grinning helplessly at her. "What?"

"Christine, you love him." Meg said calmly.

"What? No!"

"Oh, _please_! It's blatantly obvious. And he loves you too, judging by that description." Sorelli put in. "What else did you do? Did you talk about anything?"

"Some stuff. Just stuff like when we first met and how we made friends and what brought us to this." Christine said slowly. Meg and Sorelli nodded at each other.

"Yup. It's love."

"Stop that." Christine said warningly. "Stop that right now."

"Why is that such a bad thing, Christine?" Sorelli asked. "You love him, he loves you. It doesn't get anymore perfect than that."

Christine considered it for a moment.

"It's not a bad thing. But-"

"But you're not quite ready to admit it yet?" Meg asked.

"Yeah."

"Blonde-bimbo alert." Sorelli muttered. Christine looked up to see Carlotta approaching to get her low-fat, carb-free lunch pack from the fridge. Meg changed the subject at the speed of light.

"So what else did you see?"

"We went to Notre Dame, that was incredible. And the Opera House, obviously. _Il Muto_ was even better than I remembered it. It's a little different over there but it was still breathtaking." Christine said, smiling at the memory. Carlotta glanced over but didn't say anything.

Sorelli said,

"You can pick up Cat after work, if you want."

"Great. I'm glad he behaved himself." Christine said, biting into her sandwich. Carlotta moved away and Christine let out a breath.

"Either she couldn't find anything nasty to say or she's given up."

"Don't worry, soon you two will be back to making nasty comments and pulling each other's hair like six-year-olds." Meg said comfortingly.

* * *

Erik was already home when Christine got back with Cat. She put the animal down and he wandered into her apartment as Erik appeared in his doorway. He smiled.

"Good day?"

"Not bad. You?"

"Productive." He pulled her closer for a kiss which she readily returned. He turned to push open his door, which had swung shut and Christine shook away the shiver that had overcome her at the kiss. It was a little embarrassing that he could do that to her so easily.

But then again, she was only human.

She followed him into his apartment, where he was preparing coffee, moving with precise, swift movements as he did with every task that was set upon him. She paused for a moment, watching him. After a few moments he glanced at her.

"Is something wrong?"

"What? No. No, I was just…" She shrugged helplessly and smiled. Erik watched her curiously. "I just like to watch you sometimes. And I know how weird that sounds."

"It doesn't sound normal." Erik agreed. Christine wrinkled her nose.

"It's just been a long day. I'm glad to be home again. Firmin gave me a fun little lecture about not letting my personal life get in the way of work."

"How kind of him." Erik muttered, spooning a sugar into her cup and stirring it. Christine accepted the hot mug and looked at him.

"So, how was your day?"

"Fine, I suppose. It's going to take a lot more work to get _Hannibal_ off the ground. If Nadir hadn't been there to calm me I would have been tearing my hair out."

Christine highly doubted that this was true. She simply could not imagine Erik being that stressed.

"Well, it's a good job he's so composed to keep you sane in your outbursts." She smiled. Erik drank from his coffee cup and said,

"I suppose so. He was in a particularly good mood for some reason."

* * *

"The opening night has been set for 15th September. That's a good four months away but they want the advertising to start in mid-August. Programmes and things like that won't be needed until the beginning of September but we need the media advertising and posters, pamphlets etc to be done by August." Firmin informed the _Hannibal_ crew. Jammes lifted a hand.

"Who's doing the radio advertising?"

"That's up to Christine to decide, but I believe Meg was on it last time." He glanced at Christine, who turned to Meg.

"You up for that?"

"Not a problem. I'll call the theatre and see if we can get a couple of sound bites, and maybe one of the performers to do the voiceover."

"Good. Any other problems, Christine can sort them out. We'll have a meeting next week to see where we're all up to."

He dismissed them and Christine looked at Jammes.

"You're interested in the radio ads?"

"I'd like to see how they're done. I know I trained as a graphic designer but-"

"Meg, take Jammes with you to the recordings. There's no harm in getting experience in other areas as well as graphics." Christine said. Jammes grinned brightly as she went off to do her work. Meg smiled at Christine.

"You're fond of that one, aren't you?"

"She's a sweet girl and she really loves what she does. We might as well take advantage of what she can bring to the project." Christine replied, pouring herself some coffee.

Sorelli joined them and Meg eyed her.

"So, where were you last night? I called you at ten to ask something and you weren't in."

"I had a date." Sorelli said carelessly. Meg and Christine stared at her.

"What?"

"With who?"

"It wasn't Steven, was it?" Meg said, narrowing her eyes. Sorelli snorted.

"Hell no! No, it was, um… it was Nadir, actually."

Meg and Christine gaped.

"Nadir. As if in, Nadir Khan. Yay tall, dark skin, black hair…?" Meg said disbelievingly.

"How?" Christine asked. Sorelli shrugged, smiling.

"Well, you know the night when I came over and three of you were having dinner? We got to talking that night and we've been talking on the phone and so on. And he called yesterday and asked if I wanted to go to dinner. It's easy to get on with him, you know? He's such a sweetie and he already knows about the baby so it's not even awkward."

Christine smiled.

"That's so good for you, Sorelli. He's so nice."

"He is." Sorelli agreed. "I can really see this going somewhere."

"Yay! The three of us finally have men in our lives!" Meg said, linking arms with the pair of them.

"Not that we _need_ men." Sorelli pointed out."

"Yeah, what's that saying? Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes."

* * *

"Eleanor, why do you insist on massacring every part of this song?" Erik demanded. The singer folded her arms and glared at him.

"Mr Destler, this song is ridiculous!"

"It is _not_ ridiculous! Get off the stage!" Erik spat. Eleanor turned and swept from the stage, muttering oaths under her breaths. Erik calmed himself down and turned to Carl, the lead tenor.

"Let's do the third act, shall we? We might as well try and get _some_ work done today!"

Carl took his place and the orchestra began. Erik watched with folded arms but was distracted by the opening of the door as Nadir entered with their new patron. It was his first visit to the Hawthorn but at least Nadir had had the foresight to warn Erik of his imminent arrival. Erik turned back to the stage to stop Carl and make a few amendments to the piece.

"Cassandra, see if you can't get our Prima Donna out here to do her job." He said to a passing stagehand. Carl grinned.

"Still can't control her?"

"The woman is completely insufferable. I'd be happy to get ready of her altogether if she wasn't so damn talented. There's nothing more intolerable than a talented person who is so aware of their own abilities." Erik muttered. They both looked around as a giggling group of ballerinas passed.

"He's so _handsome_!"

"I just want to take a bite out of him!"

"He could be _my_ patron any day!"

"What are they going on about now?" Erik asked. Carl whistled and nodded towards Raoul de Chagny, who was admiring the décor of the theatre, as Nadir pointed out particular items of interest.

"Our new benefactor, of course. Every female in the building has melted into a stammering puddle."

"How delightful them. If he carries on disrupting my rehearsals any longer I'll have drowned in a puddle of stammering ballet rats." Erik said irritably. Nadir glanced at him and beckoned. Erik and Carl both went to the pair. Raoul was watching Erik curiously.

"Mr de Chagny, this is Carl, our leading tenor. And you've already met our composer and director, Erik Destler."

"Indeed." They all shook hands briefly and Raoul glanced at the stage. "So this must be the infamous _Hannibal_ I heard about at the meeting?"

"It is. Opening night is 15th September and it is going to be a spectacular show." Nadir said proudly.

"If you're expecting that, Nadir, I suggest you let us get back to work." Erik said. Carl disappeared back to the stage and Erik turned away, but Raoul said,

"How's Chris?"

Erik paused and looked over his shoulder at the striking young man.

"Fine. She's fine."

"Tell her I said hi."

"No, Mr de Chagny, I won't be telling her that. One, because I doubt she would be very appreciative of that greeting, and two, because she is no longer your concern." He went back to the stage, leaving the stunned patron in his wake.

* * *

That evening, Christine was sat in her study, working at the computer screen. Erik stood in the doorway, watching as her fingers danced across the keyboard, pressing the buttons so swiftly that words sprung onto the page without her even pausing. Cat strolled past and leapt up to sit by the computer screen. Christine smiled at him and then carried on working. Erik moved behind her and she looked up.

"I'm almost finished."

"No hurry."

"There _is_ a hurry. I don't want to spend all night working on this when I could be being sociable with you." She pointed out, looking back at the screen. Erik lowered his face and brushed his mouth against the back of her neck. She shivered as she carried on typing and Erik smirked as he repeated the action, his hands on her shoulders as he slowly began to massage her tensed muscles. Her fingers faltered momentarily on the keys.

"Erik…"

"Hmm?" He said, kissing the soft skin of her neck.

"I need to finish this."

"Go ahead." He smiled wickedly, not ceasing in his actions. Christine carried on typing, slower now and a very quiet moan escaped her as his longer fingers rubbed her aching shoulders. Her eyes slipped closed and then snapped open again as she carried on working.

Erik had to admit, this woman was incredibly determined. For several minutes he carried on with his game and Christine forced herself to keep working. Finally she saved the file, turned off the computer and turned on the swirling computer chair to look up at him.

"The next time you're sat at that piano and are desperately trying to compose, I'm getting my revenge!"

"I can hardly wait." Erik smirked, pulling her to her feet and engaging her in a kiss. She pulled back, still a little peeved but mostly enjoying the amount of power that she could wield over him if she so wished.

"So, how was your day?" She asked innocently. Erik heaved a sigh.

"Disastrous."

"How come?"

"Our new patron decided to pay us a visit." Erik said simply. Christine closed her eyes in dejection.

"Urgh, I can see why it might be disastrous."

"Hmm. The only ray of light in my otherwise desolate existence was the thought of seeing you. Only to find you intended to spend the entire evening working." He said, his eyebrow arched into a teasingly stern expression

"You should have found something to entertain yourself." Christine commented haughtily.

"I did." He murmured, lowering his mouth once again to her neck.

Christine closed her eyes, this time allowing herself to fully enjoy the sensation. But a thought struck her.

"Nadir!"

"_What_?" Erik lifted his head and stared at her. She laughed.

"No, not like that. I meant to say – Nadir and Sorelli are going out."

"Christine, do you seriously believe that I am remotely interested in office gossip?"

"He's your best friend!"

"And I am certainly not his keeper. He is free to do as he wishes and I couldn't care less about what he does." He said, moving to kiss her again. Christine moved her face back, pouting.

"You _should_ care!"

"Why?"

"Because he's your friend!"

"And as his friend I do him the favour of not interfering in his personal life." Erik pointed out. "Are we going to spend the rest of the night debating Nadir when we could be carrying out exceedingly more interesting activities?"

Christine pretended to consider but Erik had had quite enough. He lifted her off the ground and Christine instinctively wrapped her legs around him.

"Erik!"

"Yes dear?" He said, holding her in place.

"I swear, you've turned into a complete fiend!"

"If you're objecting I could distance myself and become completely forbidding." Erik suggested but Christine just laughed and kissed him before jumping down.

"Don't you _dare_, Mr Destler." She told him firmly, sliding her arms around his waist. "I like you just the way you are."

"I'm glad to hear it, since I have no plans to change."

They moved out into Christine's living room. Christine was about to ask what he wanted for dinner but he pushed her onto the sofa, where he carried on with his previous activities. She took his mask off, leaving it on the coffee table. Erik stopped and glanced at it.

"I still don't understand how you can do that."

"Do what?" Christine asked, pressing kisses to his face.

"Be with me without the mask."

"Because I don't like it. I like you." She said. "After all we've been through, why does it matter what you look like? Or what I look like? I've got scars too."

She tapped her cheek and then lifted her shirt to show him a white scar that ran from beneath her left breast to the bottom of the ribcage. Erik traced it.

"What happened?"

"I was twelve. I was riding my bike down the street and I fell off into some broken bottles. So neither of us is perfect, OK?" She carried on kissing him and now he responded just as eagerly as he had before.

* * *

The telephone was ringing. Erik opened one eye and glared at it. Christine moaned sleepily.

"Leave it. The machine can get it." After several more rings it switched to the answer machine.

"_Hi, Christine. It's Raoul. I just wanted to… say hi, I guess._"

Christine sat up sharply and seized the phone.

"Piss off, Raoul." She said crossly, and then hung the phone up. Erik blinked as she then took the phone off the hook and lay back down on top of him. She noticed his look.

"What?"

"I've never seen you quite so… abrupt."

"He annoys the hell out of me. Oh, don't talk about him." She yawned and looked at the clock. "Well, it's eleven at night and we still haven't had dinner. Hungry?"

"Very."

"I'll find something."

She got up and searched around on the floor for some clothes. Erik lifted his hand to put them behind his head, smiling as he watched her. She caught his look and smiled, rolling her eyes before picking up his shirt and slipping it on. It came almost down to her knees.

"That's _my_ shirt!" Erik pointed out.

"You're not using it. Besides, it's OK for you to walk around topless. Me, on the other hand-"

"Would look perfectly divine walking around topless."

"Erik, I am not cooking with no clothes on!" She laughed, going into the kitchen.

Was this what other couples were like, Erik wondered? Did they tease each other so easily, laugh at each other, love each other as beautifully simply as he and Christine did?

But… no. That wasn't right. He and Christine had never once admitted to each other that they felt love for one another. Why was that?

Because she was too afraid. Every time she had said that she loved someone before now had ended with them leaving or dying or becoming something that she absolutely could not love. That was why she did not say it to him. She had shown him, had given him everything to signify her feelings.

But the words had not left her mouth. She had even begged him not to make her say them. He wouldn't, of course. But he still wanted to hear them. Still wanted to listen to those sweet words, to repeat them to her.

He would wait. And when the time came that she could announce her feelings, he would offer her the world in exchange for just one kiss.

**A/N: Hey people. Sorry about the wait. School isn't getting any easier.**

**I hope you like this chapter. To be perfectly honest I can't even think up an opinion of it right now, it's just been a way to distract me today. My dog, Roc, was put to sleep earlier today and I'm absolutely heartbroken. I truly loved and adored that dog. I've had him for about eight years and it was so sudden. He only became really sick on Wednesday and went downhill in an instant. And, in what is becoming a despicable custom, it was cancer that killed him.**

**I don't know how many more people I can lose this year. I just can't take this anymore.**

**Anyway, next chapter may be a while. Please forgive me the wait.**

**Love**

**Katie**


	26. Two's Company

**The Girl Next Door**

"No! No, I said that I _didn't_ want the programmes in blue!" Christine said angrily down the phone. Meg paused in the doorway. "Well, you'll just have to get rid of that lot! We want them in dark green. No, we are _not_ paying for those ones! If you can't understand simple instructions then it's not our fault! I want the programmes here in a week, in dark green."

She hung up the phone and screamed quietly into her hands. Meg moved in and sat down.

"Bad morning?"

"Horrendous. The programmes are wrong, three people in my department are sick, there were fourteen messages on my phone when I got here this morning and Richard and I are having an evaluation meeting this afternoon to see how I'm coping with the new job." Christine said, typing an email and sending it as she spoke before turning to open a file on her desk. Meg whistled.

"Calm down. Just share the extra work around the department, get Jammes to do the phone calls and have a cup of tea before the meeting."

"You make it sound so easy."

"No, you just make things unnecessarily awkward." Meg commented, playing with a paperweight. Christine glanced at her.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Sure. I just wanted to know if you want to go to Club Garnier on Friday."

"I can't even think that far ahead right now."

"Well, Sorelli and I are going. Give it some thought, OK?"

Meg went to the door but Christine called,

"I'll go. Give me a time and I'll get there."

"Great." Meg smiled warmly. "We don't see enough of you, Chris."

She closed the door behind her and Christine contemplated the exit. She didn't want to become one of those people who dropped their friends in a second just because there was a man in her life. Definitely not. No, she would go out on Friday and enjoy herself with her friends. She went to the door and crossed to Jammes' cubicle. The girl was chewing a pencil as she used her computer, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Jammes, could I ask you an enormous favour?" Christine asked. Jammes smiled.

"Sure!"

"Don't get too excited. I just want you to call a few people and give them messages." Christine smiled, handing her a sheet of paper with telephone numbers, names and information.

"No problem, Christine."

* * *

It was lunch when Christine found the time to pick up the phone. She dialled a number and sat, winding the cord of the telephone around her fingers. After a couple of rings, Erik picked up, his voice still as stunning over the tinny line of the phone as it was in reality.

"It's only me, Erik."

"Christine." he sounded pleasantly surprised, much to her relief. "Is everything alright?"

"I just needed to hear a voice over the telephone that wasn't going to tell me that something else had gone wrong with the _Hannibal_ project. Are you busy?"

"Not particularly. The staff have all gone off to lunch; I was just finishing some paperwork. I take it that your morning has been less than productive?"

Christine related the horrific escapades of her morning to him. He listened patiently, offering some pieces of advice, making understanding sounds and generally being extremely wonderful.

"Don't go back to Gaston Place after work. Come to the Hawthorn and I'll take you out to dinner in an effort to save the day from becoming a total loss." He offered. Christine smiled, leaning back in her chair.

"You are an angel."

"I very much doubt that."

"Seraphim, Cherubim, Archangel and saint, all rolled into one fantastic package." She assured him. Erik chuckled richly.

"You, my darling, are delusional. I'll see you later."

Christine put down the phone and smiled broadly at it. There was nothing like the prospect of dinner with Erik to considerably improve her mood. Meg and Sorelli came in and Christine glanced at them.

"There's such a thing as knocking, perhaps you've heard of it?"

"I think I did once. We've been waiting to talk with you but we guessed you were on the phone to Monsieur Sexiness." Meg grinned. Christine lifted an eyebrow.

"And what makes you think I was talking to Erik?"

"Because you haven't wiped that grin off your face since we came in." Sorelli said. Christine shrugged.

"Fine. Yes, we were talking. We're going out to dinner tonight."

"Cool." Meg glanced at the clock. "Well, no time to gossip, since lunch is now over. We'll have to catch up tomorrow."

"I can't wait." Christine muttered cynically.

* * *

Erik was stood by the stage, scribbling in a notebook, his face furrowed into an intensive frown as he worked. Christine slipped inside the theatre and smiled at his concentration. She moved quietly behind him and reached up to kiss the back of his neck. He swung around and she laughed. He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"That wasn't particularly mature."

"I know. I couldn't resist." She said, winding her arms around him and laying her head against his chest as she hugged him. He returned the embrace.

"Are you feeling a bit better now?"

"Hmm. Seeing you definitely helped." Christine murmured, closing her eyes and breathing in his warm scent. He kissed her hair.

"I just want to try a new piece on the piano. Do you mind waiting a few minutes?"

"Of course not."

She perched on the edge of the stage, listening as he tested the music, pausing occasionally to alter a note. She took out a notebook and began to jot down some ideas and some vague sketches for designs. Erik glanced over and swiftly changed the music to _Think_ _of Me_. Christine looked up with a grin.

"Show-off."

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked as innocently as he could. Christine laughed.

"When we start singing lessons again, you are seriously going to regret letting me try to sing that."

"You won't sound any worse than Eleanor. I don't think you could, judging by today's rehearsal." He pulled a face at the recollection. "It physically wounded me."

Christine laughed again.

"You poor, tortured soul. Suffering so much for your art!"

"Don't laugh, that's absolutely correct. Do you realise exactly how much I go through trying to get these operas together? Literally, working my hands to the bone." Erik commented, continuing to play. Christine couldn't stop laughing now. She already felt so much better from just being in Erik's company. How could a being so solemn and refined wash away her frustration and stress by his mere presence?

She was about to comment on the fact when an all-too-familiar voice echoed around the room.

"I thought I recognised that laugh!" Both Erik and Christine looked to the door, where Raoul was standing, leaning against the doorframe with a grin. Christine's smile faded instantly and she released a quiet groan.

"I didn't know you were going to be here. If I'd known I would have cleaned myself up a bit." He grinned, moving into the room. Christine sighed.

"It wouldn't have helped, Raoul."

"Now, you're just saying that to hurt my feelings." He laughed, leaning on the stage beside her. She gave him an incredulous look.

"Why else would I say it?" He opened his mouth but she shook her head. "God, don't answer or we might actually have to have a conversation."

She stood and went over to the piano, where Erik was stood, watching them both with puckered brow. He looked at her quickly and she smiled.

"Shall we go?"

"Of course." Christine picked up her bag and glanced up as Nadir came in. He cast a wary glance from Erik to Raoul, but Christine smiled at him.

"See you later, Nadir. We're taking off now."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Erik. Mr de Chagny, that information is ready for you now."

"Great. See you later Chris."

"Oh, I hope not." Christine said cheerfully. Erik smirked as he put an arm around her waist, rather pleased to see that Raoul's jovial grin had vanished at the sight.

They walked out of the Hawthorn and Erik swung her around to kiss her. She smiled, rather surprised at his forwardness.

"What was that for?" She laughed. He shrugged, tracing her lower lip with his thumb.

"Because you are an extraordinary woman and I am unbelievably fortunate to have you in my life."

"Mr Destler, you can be so romantic at times." She smiled, leaning against him as they walked to the car. He held open the door as she climbed and noticed Raoul walking to his own, extremely flashy car. The two men made eye contact and Erik held it until Raoul broke away uncomfortably to climb into his car.

* * *

"_We never said_

_Our love was evergreen _

_Or as unchanging as the sea…"_

"Stop." The order came for what seemed like the millionth time that evening. Christine eyed Erik over the top of her music.

"Do you _ever_ want to finish this song?"

"I want it to be perfect." Erik said simply. "And we are far from that stage at the moment."

"Thanks."

"I'm only being honest. You're hitting the wrong note in 'unchanging' every single time. And you're slouching again." Christine straightened and took a breath.

"OK. Try it again."

"We'll go through it once more and then leave it for the evening. Or…" He considered her for a moment. She looked back, waiting for an end to the sentence. Apparently there wasn't one. Erik reached for a folder and pulled out a piece of music.

"There are only two lines but I'd like to hear you sing them." He said, pointing to them. Christine read them.

"I've not seen these before."

"You won't have. They're from _Don Juan Triumphant_." Erik said, putting his hands on the keyboard. Before Christine had a chance to react to this startling enlightenment, he had begun to play. She followed the music and came in on the cue.

"_No thoughts within her head but_ _thoughts of joy… no dreams within her heart but dreams of love…_"

Erik stopped playing almost instantly, her final note still ringing in the air. Christine looked at him, anxious. He was watching her with the strangest expression on his face. Neither of them spoke. And then Erik stood up and slipped the music back into the folder. Christine ventured to speak.

"Sorry if it was bad, I just-"

"It wasn't bad. It was perfect." Erik said quietly. Christine felt a rush of pleasure at the compliment and looked down as Cat wound around her legs, mewing for attention. Christine picked the creature up and watched as Erik cleared the music from her piano.

"I was planning on going out with Meg and Sorelli on Friday. Is that alright?"

"You don't need to ask my permission." He said, seemingly amused. Christine smiled.

"I know. I was just commenting. Perhaps you and Nadir could do something."

The image of Nadir and Erik sat on the sofa, watching the football came to mind and she fought back a giggle. Erik glanced at her.

"Or perhaps not. I shall keep myself entertained, thank you."

"OK." Christine sat on the sofa, stroking Cat. Erik poured her some wine.

"Go out with your friends and have fun."

"I will." Christine said firmly. "I miss hanging out with them. Everything's been so crazy lately we just haven't had a chance."

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. What film do you want to watch?"

* * *

_To Mr Erik Destler_

_You are cordially invited to attend_

_A Masquerade Ball_

_To be held at the Hawthorn Theatre on June 30th to begin promptly at 8 pm. _

_Costumes are mandatory _

_Invite + guest_

"Nadir, have you completely lost your mind?" Erik asked tiredly on Friday morning. Nadir held up his hands.

"Don't blame this on me. It's just an event for the patrons and bluebloods to come and show off about how fabulously wealthy they are. Eleanor and Carl have both been invited, a few off the other more important employees as well as the both of us. And you _will_ attend, Erik."

"Why?"

"Because you are our most renowned director/composer/producer. It won't hurt for you to spend a few hours sucking up to the people who keep this place afloat."

"I was led to understand that it was the shows that kept this place afloat." Erik said, examining the invitation. Nadir glared at him.

"You're coming, Erik. And you're bringing a guest. Christine, I presume?"

"If I'm being forced into going, I may as well bring someone whose company I can actually bear." Erik muttered.

Nadir's words hit him in full and he examined the dark man's face suspiciously.

"Nadir…"

"Yes?"

"Raoul de Chagny is going to be there, isn't he?"

"…Yes."

Erik let out an angry breath and dropped the invitation.

"Erik, be reasonable-"

"You expect me to go to that mockery and watch that insignificant twit trying to woo the woman I am involved with?" Erik demanded.

"He'll be far to busy to bother you and Christine. Now stop being so ridiculous and go and do some work!" Nadir said crossly, sitting behind his desk. Erik tucked the garish invitation into the pocket of his jacket and left the office, imagining the most delightful methods of torture to execute on Raoul de Chagny.

* * *

"I think it sounds fun." Christine said brightly. Erik scowled. That had not been the reaction he was looking for.

"Fun?"

"Yes. To dress up for a night and go dancing and everything."

"I didn't neglect to mention the presence of your former husband." Erik said sharply. Christine smiled at him as she brushed her hair out, preparing for her night out with Meg and Sorelli.

"No, you didn't forget. But don't worry about it. Everyone will be wearing masks; it's not as if he'll get a chance to talk to us. I'm guessing it'll be very busy."

"I suppose…"

"Cheer up, Erik. We'll have fun, I promise. We can sort out costumes, and I'll find a mask, and we can go and show off about how wonderful you are at your job." Christine said firmly. "It'll be great."

She turned to the mirror to put on some lipstick and Erik finally distracted himself from the disastrous proposition of the masquerade ball to look at her outfit.

"Christine?"

"Yes?"

"Where exactly is the rest of that skirt?" Christine looked down at her short skirt. So it was a _little_ shorter than what she usually wore…

"It's not that short."

"It's not that long." Erik replied dryly. "Haven't you got a nice ankle-length and a polo neck shirt?"

Christine laughed and put her hands on his shoulders.

"You're overreacting. The skirt is fine." He did not look particularly convinced. She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I've got my mobile phone on and I won't stay out too late."

"I want you back by midnight."

"A, you are not my father and B, I am not seventeen. So relax. Have a nice, peaceful evening and I'll be back before you know it." Christine said, as the buzzer went, signalling Meg and Sorelli's arrival. She let them in and went off to find her shoes. Meg and Sorelli knocked on her door and Erik opened it. Both women smiled brightly at the sight of him.

"Hi Mr Destler."

"How are you doing?"

"Is Christine ready yet?"

Confronted by the two nattering women, Erik unconsciously took a retreating step, just as Christine emerged, now clad in a jacket and stylish shoes. Erik threw a last disgruntled look at her skirt and Christine smiled, kissing him swiftly.

"I'll see you later."

"Have fun." _If you absolutely must_ he added in his mind. Christine grinned.

"We will."

And then they were gone. Erik blinked, rather perplexed and rather regretting his admission of stating that she didn't need his permission to go out.

* * *

After several fast dances, the three women collapsed into chairs in one of the quieter rooms at Club Garnier. Meg went to buy drinks and Christine stretched.

"This is so much fun. I can't remember the last time I just felt this hyper!"

"It's been a while since the three of us were together like this." Sorelli commented. Meg returned, passing Sorelli a coke whilst she and Christine drank cocktails.

"Well, what next? I've danced myself to blisters, I'm just drunk enough to do something stupid and we've got several hours more of partying to do!" Meg said. Sorelli raised her glass to that.

"Good point. We're three gorgeous ladies on a Friday night. What do we do now?"

"Easy – talk to random guys and see how many telephone numbers we can get!" Meg laughed. Christine lifted an eyebrow.

"I hate to be the party-pooper, but pregnant, dating and firmly attached." She said, pointing to Sorelli, Meg and herself consecutively. Meg pouted.

"So? Do we see any of our boyfriends around? Besides, it's not serious, we're only messing around."

"Tell you what; let's see how many guys I get talking to and how many I can scare away by mentioning that I'm pregnant!" Sorelli laughed. She drained her glass and went to stand by the bar to order another, eying passing men who cast appreciative glances at her. Her bump was barely visible and it was easy to pretend that she wasn't pregnant.

Christine shook her head, grinning.

"That girl is a nutter."

"Everyone's got a hobby." Meg shrugged, sipping her cocktail and twirling the paper umbrella between her fingers as she watched Sorelli. Christine glanced at her watch and Meg snorted. "You can't be thinking about leaving already!"

"No! I was just… never mind." Christine lifted her glass and Meg giggled.

"I can't believe it. You're away from him for four hours and you're already longing to be back at the apartment. I don't know how you make it through a full day at work."

"I'm not that bad." Christine muttered and Meg gave her a cynical look. "Well, I'm not! I just… I like spending time with him."

"When are you going to own up to the fact that you love him?"

"Meg, stop it."

"Well, you do! And I'm sorry for mentioning the L-word but it's true. You haven't been this serious about anyone since Raoul and you're clearly crazy about Erik."

Christine didn't reply. She stirred the glass stick in her drink and finished the last dregs of liquid.

"I will tell him. Eventually. Right now it's just easier this way. It's that I want to leave him for anyone else. I mean… I can't imagine ever begin with anyone else, ever."

"Head-over-heels, cheesy pop song, daydreaming in love. Definition of you." Meg commented lightly, grinning as a guy backed away from Sorelli, staring in horror at her stomach. She joined them, waving a few slips of paper.

"I got me some phone numbers!" She laughed, dropping them onto the table. "Go on, Meg. Your turn."

"Remember – he's not going anywhere. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't want to hear those three little words." Meg said quietly, before heading to the bar to beat Sorelli's record.

* * *

Erik was lying in bed, reading a book with a dark green cover when Christine got back, a little past one in the morning. She took her shoes off in the living room and tiptoed into the bedroom. He glanced up.

"How was your evening?"

"It was fun." She smiled, speaking a little too carefully, as though not certain as to whether or not he could understand. He arched an eyebrow.

"Are you drunk?"

"No, just a little… tipsy." She said sitting on the edge of the bed and throwing her clothes onto the floor before wriggling under the covers to snuggle close to his warm body. His arms went around her and she giggled.

"You're so comfortable."

"Hmm." He reached for a glass of water on the bedside table. Christine drank about half of it before yawning and closing her eyes.

"You're the best, Erik."

"Glad to be of service. Go to sleep." He murmured, shutting the light off.

Christine lay for a few dozing moments, considering the being beside her. How was it possible to have emotions so strong, so unbelievably powerful for someone and still be afraid of three tiny words?

_Just say them_, her brain ordered.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

_I love you. It's not hard. Say it._

"…Goodnight."  
"Goodnight." He replied.

…_Coward._

**A/N: Can it be? Can it be filler?**

**Why yes. It is. What a surprise! Making you wait for nearly two weeks and then give you filler. I'm so mean. Well, school ain't getting any easier, but thankfully no one has died in the last week. I'll bet people are just getting used to my author's notes becoming obituaries by this point! **

**Anyway, yeah. Pointless chapter but at least it's up and has some semblance of pointing this story towards a plot. Please review, love you all.**

**Love**

**Katie**


	27. Dreams Of Loss

**The Girl Next Door**

"What are you wearing to the Masquerade Ball?" Sorelli asked Christine. She looked up from a memo she was reading.

"You're going?"

"Nadir's taking me."

"I haven't had a chance to think about it yet. What about you?" Christine said, scribbling something onto a post-it pad. Sorelli grinned.

"A butterfly. Sort of. Well, it's this gorgeous multi-coloured dress and a butterfly-shaped mask. And Nadir's going as a pirate."

Christine smiled at the imagery.

"That sounds good. I don't know, I'll talk to Erik tonight and see what he wants to do. Actually he doesn't even want to go, but Nadir's making him."

"Are you talking about the Masquerade Ball at the Hawthorn?" Carlotta, said, stopping and looking at Sorelli (pointedly ignoring Christine's presence).

"Yeah, on the 30th."

"Father and I will be attending too! We're both great fans of the opera and most of our friends are going to be there."

"So, what are you going as?" Sorelli asked curiously. Christine turned to get some coffee, listening closely to the conversation. Carlotta laughed gaily.

"Oh, I haven't thought about it! Perhaps one of the queens, or maybe as one of those noble ladies in books. It'll be so much fun."

"Maybe you should go as Lady Jane Grey." Christine put in sweetly. Carlotta glanced at her.

"Who?"

"Jane Grey. She was a Queen of England in the sixteenth century." Christine explained. Carlotta shrugged. She strolled away and Sorelli glanced at Christine.

"You were… helping her."

"I really hope she does go as Jane Grey."

"Let her go as a queen? Imagine the size of her ego!"

"Jane Grey was only queen for nine days before she was executed." Christine grinned. Sorelli snorted.

"Bet Carlotta doesn't know that!"

"Obviously not."

* * *

Erik glanced at Cat. He was balanced on the piano lid, watching as Erik played. He mewed softly and stepped agilely onto the keyboard and then to the stool. Christine glanced out of the kitchen.

"I'll have to get Mr Andre in to look at the oven, it's not working again. I'll just call out for something."

"There's a perfectly good oven across the hall in your apartment." Erik pointed out. Christine shrugged.

"I know. But I've already called for an Indian and they don't withdraw orders." She said mildly, parking herself on the sofa. Cat leapt into her lap and she asked,

"Did you know Carlotta's going to the Masquerade Ball?"

"I had no idea."

"We don't have costumes either." Christine reminded him. He smirked.

"Perhaps _you_ don't."

"What? You have a costume? Erik, why didn't you tell me? What is it?" She said, sitting up sharply, a little annoyed. Erik stood and crossed to the bookshelf. He ran a long finger of the books that were lined up before sliding one from the shelf. He passed it to Christine and she examined the cover.

"_The Mask of the Red Death _by Edgar Allen Poe." She flipped it open and read a few lines from the end of the story. "Everyone understood that the Red Death was now among them. He came like a thief in the night. And as the seconds passed – clang…clang…clang… - one by one, people began to die the terrible death."

She glanced at the cover again.

"Cheerful man. Red Death, then…"

"I'm having the costume department prepare it. They're also making something for you, so you needn't worry about a costume."

"What's my costume?" Christine asked excitedly.

"You'll find out soon." He said smugly. Christine hit his arm.

"Tell me!"

"A very convincing argument, yet somehow I can resist." Erik said cynically. Christine scowled and began to read the story from the beginning.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Christine awoke and blinked as she saw sunlight flooding the room. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched, enjoying the sensation of warmth on her back. She was alone. Erik must already be up. She listened carefully and heard water running in the bathroom. He came back into the room and she smiled up at him.

"G'morning."

"Morning." He replied, climbing back into bed. She lay across him and yawned.

"What time is it?" She asked.

"A little past nine." He replied, twisting a lock of her hair around his fingers. She closed her eyes.

"I don't feel like getting up."

"Fine."

"At all."

"Alright."

"I just want to spend all day right here."

"I'm not objecting."

She smiled, glancing at him.

"Good." She said. Erik kissed her forehead and pulled her closer.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked after a moment.

"Saturday."

"Yes. But it is also a month until your 25th birthday."

"Oh, that." Christine pulled a face. "I don't really do much on my birthdays. Very much like Christmas."

"Well, this year I am going to make sure that you do something."

"Oh yeah? When's your birthday?" She said, looking at him.

"7th October."

"I'll get my revenge then." She sighed. Erik smiled.

"And I do so hate to put a stop to your frantically busy plans for today, but I have a few activities to engage in, for which your presence is required."

Christine smiled lazily.

"Really? And what activities might these be?"

"Ones regarding music, eating, singing and visiting the Hawthorn so you can try on your costume for next Friday." He said, pulling a lock of her hair and releasing it so that it sprang back to her head. She sat up.

"My costume?"

"Yes."

"I'll get in the shower, you start on breakfast!" She grinned, climbing over him to reach the bathroom.

Erik pulled on a pair of worn, black bed-trousers and went through the living room to the kitchen. Cat mewed at his feet and he poured the creature some milk before filling the kettle and slipping bread into the toaster. He methodically began to prepare food, fetching butter and marmalade, measuring out coffee and sugar, pouring milk until everything was ready. Moments later Christine arrived, her damp hair curling around her face, the sweet scent of the coconut shampoo she had used drifting about. She hugged him from behind, her moist skin pressing against his exposed back.

"I am so lucky to have you." She commented, reaching for her coffee. Cat strolled along the surface and gave the marmalade an interested look. Christine hastily lifted it out of his reach as Erik went to open the balcony doors. It was a wonderfully warm day, even this early. Cat and Christine went to sit in the sunlight as Erik headed for the bathroom.

* * *

"Ah, Mr Destler! Your costume is very nearly finished, sir." Said a beaming middle-aged woman as Erik led Christine into the costumes department of the Hawthorn Theatre. She had red hair, with the odd grey one showing through and she had a friendly air to her. Erik nodded.

"Cherie, this is Christine Daae. She's here to try on her costume, in case there are alterations needed."

"Of course. Come this way, Miss." Cherie smiled warmly. Christine glanced nervously back at Erik before following her into an anti-room. Cherie gestured to a dress, hanging on a hook.

"There we are. Unusual design, isn't it? Mr Destler did it himself, just came in here and told us to make it."

Christine wasn't listening. She was staring at the creation before her in amazement.

Erik… Erik had designed this. For her. He had created this just for her purpose. He considered her worthy enough to create something so beautiful for her.

A smile crossed her lips.

* * *

Meg was not impressed.

"_Why_ didn't I find someone at the opera house to go out with? You're both going to be there in your amazing costumes and I'm going to be stuck at home with a bucket of ice-cream and reruns of Friends!" She pouted.

Christine and Sorelli exchanged an amused glance. Sorelli patted Meg's arm comfortingly.

"Don't worry about it. It'll probably be a total drag, Nadir and I might leave early." She said.

"And besides, you can just imagine me spending an entire night trying to keep Raoul and Erik as far away from each other as possible." Christine pointed out. "It's going to be an absolute nightmare."

That thought seemed to cheer Meg up a little.

"We should be envious of you, you'll get to spend an evening off your feet, relaxing, eating calorific things, wearing anything you want and getting to laugh at the thought of us having to make irritating small talk and meeting incredibly dull people." Christine said. Meg grinned.

"Didn't think of it like that. I'd hate to be you two right now. Coming!" She called as someone shouted for her. She skipped away and Sorelli looked at Christine.

"It's going to be great though."

"Obviously, it'll be fantastic." Christine

* * *

Erik was already home when Christine returned from work. He was in his apartment and she heard music coming through the door. She stopped to listen, closing her eyes in order to concentrate all of her senses on the piece.

She didn't recognise it. It was strangely sweet, as though it had intended be something quite different than what it was. The tune was lilting and delicate, but with a certainty behind the notes that was something like a ballad, although there was much more to it than that, a deeper need and want to notes than simplicity.

Christine opened the door and Erik looked around.

"What was that?" She asked. "It was lovely."

"A singular piece. _The Music of the Night_." He said, rising from the piano. Christine shrugged her coat off.

"It was beautiful, Erik."

"With you as a muse, it is easy to produce beautiful music." He commented lightly. Christine flushed and cleared her throat as she put her bag on the floor. Erik smirked at her reaction and went to put the kettle on for their customary afternoon tea whilst Christine recovered herself. She followed him in a few seconds later and they began to discuss the day's work. After a while Erik brought up the subject of the Masquerade Ball.

"I will need to be there a little early in order to approve the proceedings. But I will have someone meet you at the door so they can bring you to me." He said. Christine nodded.

"I'm looking forward to it. Except for Raoul and Carlotta being there. But that's the beauty of having a Masquerade; I won't even have to see them hopefully!"

Erik nodded in agreement and considered her a few moments. She caught him watching and smiled.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. I want to do some more work before dinner."

"I'll go and make it in my apartment and call you when it's ready." She offered. "Go carry on with your Music of the Night." She kissed him and disappeared. Erik returned to the piano, but it was not _The Music of the Night_ that he took out and began to alter to fit a different voice from the original.

* * *

_She was staring at him as he lay beside the chocolate-headed angel. For a moment she was silent and then she met his eyes. Erik couldn't move as her light eyes filled with a mixture of pain and sadness._

_Erik sat up._

"_Anna…"_

_But she had turned and was walking away. Erik made to get up and follow her but stopped and looked down at Christine's sleeping form. Her face was the epitome of peace and sweetness. He looked back to Anna. She was looking back at him as she stood in the doorway. Her hand went to her stomach; it was swollen with pregnancy. Erik swallowed hard and then lay back down, his eyes fixed on Christine, willing himself to wake up, to forget who was standing in his doorway…_

_

* * *

_

"Erik?" The soft voice reached him through the fuzziness of half-sleep. His eyes snapped open and he saw Christine leaning over him, her face contorted in anxiousness. He blinked.

"Christine…"

"What were you dreaming?" She whispered. He stared at her and she touched his cheek. He felt dampness there. "You were crying."

"I dreamt…"

He couldn't finish. He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his face in both hands. The wetness of his tears was cooling. Erik licked his dry lips and breathed hard, shuddering slightly as he did so. Christine was sat up on her knees, watching him in concern. After a few silent moments he tried to speak again.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"…You were dreaming of Anna, weren't you?" She said delicately. Erik looked at her confusion and she bit her lower lip. "You told me ages ago that you dreamed of her."

"It's been so long since…"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't. He wanted nothing more than to erase the entire incident from his mind and sleep with his angel in his arms. But his voice obeyed Christine without his input.

"We were here, together. And she saw us. I called to her and… and she started to walk away. I was going to follow but I saw you there sleeping and I couldn't… she was pregnant. It was my child but didn't go. I just… I didn't want to leave you there."

He fell silent and after a minute he felt slender arms twining about him, the scent of her hair as she pressed her face to his shoulder. She didn't speak. In truth, she didn't know what to say. Holding him was just so much easier than trying to say something that would help the situation.

Erik didn't speak either. He didn't know what to make of this. Had he done the wrong thing?

No. No he couldn't possibly have been wrong.

Anna was dead. Christine was alive.

Anna was gone but Christine was still here.

Anna would not come back. And Christine would not leave.

He had made the right choice.

Christine kissed his cheeks, kissing away the salt-sweet tears, holding his face in both hands as she kissed his smooth skin and his deformed horror, not knowing or caring of the difference between them. Erik held her tightly, not knowing if she would walk away too. She pressed her mouth to his forehead and they lay down, differently from how they usually rested. Erik lay with his head on her breast, clinging to her and she held him, stroking his hair, and wondering of the woman that he had not followed in order to stay by her side.

* * *

**A/N: I don't really know about this chapter. It's rather bitty and all over the place but I haven't had time to really concentrate on it. I've just finished a 3000 word media essay on Asian Horror films and American remakes. And boy was it fun!**

**Thanks for the awesome reviews, there were some fantastic ones for the last chapter and they really cheered me up this week! Next chapter should be the Masquerade Ball but things don't always work out the way that I want them to. I swear, I have no control over this story; it just does what it wants! **

**Oh, yeah and just one more little thing….**

**1000 REVIEWS! HOLY CRAP, I GOT OVER A THOUSAND REVIEWS!**

**I have NEVER had this many reviews before! You guys are bloody brilliant, I just love you!**

**Love, adoration, appreciation, cookies and huggles**

**Katie**


	28. Dancing With Death

**The Girl Next Door**

_Dearest Christine_

_Your costume is in the bag hanging on the door. Change and be at the theatre by 8. I will meet you there._

_Erik_

Christine glanced at the bag and then went straight to the shower, excitement building in her chest at the prospect of the Masquerade Ball. She and Sorelli had been discussing the event all day, out of Meg's earshot, of course. It was not very often that they had opportunity to spend time at such a glamorous social event, after all.

After thoroughly cleaning herself from the daily grime of a hard days work, she began to dry her hair, adding various mousses and sprays. She never usually took this much care over her hair unless it was a special occasion.

And this one was extremely special.

She unzipped the clothing bag and took out the dress. Christine turned to the mirror and held the dress up against herself as she watched her reflection. A soft smile touched her lips as the material shimmered and caught the light.

She would _make_ tonight special.

* * *

"Name?" The doorman asked as Christine reached the open doors of the Hawthorn Theatre. There was a short queue as the guests were checked off the lists. Behind her was what she presumed was a mermaid, in a shimmering green dress and diamond starfish pinned to the material and behind the mermaid was a man with 18th century clothes and a dark blue mask.

"Christine Daae."

He glanced at her curiously and smiled pleasantly.

"Ah, of course. Robert, take Miss Daae around, will you?" A young man she presumed was Robert stepped forward eagerly and bowed.

"Follow me." As Christine stepped through the doors, she was almost positive she heard the doorman whisper to one of the other attendants, "That's her!"

She glanced back, caught them looking at her inquisitively, and hurried after Robert. He did not lead her towards a pair of large double doors, where she heard music playing and people talking, but through a side door. The further they walked, the quieter the noises became. Christine began to wonder exactly where she was going.

"Excuse me, but where-"

"Almost there, Miss Daae." Robert assured her. He opened a door and stepped aside to let her in. Christine walked through the door and it closed behind her, without Robert accompanying her inside. She paused and then turned swiftly as someone stepped out from the shadows.

"Erik!"

He looked nothing short of… _incredible_. The Red Death costume consisted of scarlet velvet and a white, skull-like mask. A sword hung at his waist and his eyes were surrounded by thick, black make-up, giving him the very air of mystery. And he was staring at her, just as she must have been staring at him.

She smiled nervously.

"Does it look alright?" She said, brushing the skirts of her dress unnecessarily. Erik took her hand seriously and opened his mouth, but no words came, not something that happened very often to Erik Destler.

Perhaps now would be the right time to describe what it was that had stunned Erik into such a state.

**_I dreamt a dream! – What can it mean!-_**

**_And that I was a maiden queen_**

Christine was the Maiden Queen from their beloved poem, _The Angel_. Clad in a corseted dress of the purest white silk that fell in soft folds from her waist, it had short sleeves, a decently low neckline and almost invisible stitches of silver sewn into the material, causing her to shine ethereally in his eyes. Set on her loose dark curls was a ringlet of silver and at her throat was tear-drop diamond necklace, the only jewellery that she wore. A white mask covered her eyes and cheeks, simple in design and decoration.

She smiled and asked,

"What's going on? Why all the secrecy?" Erik lifted her hand to his lips before placing it on his arm and guiding her to yet another pair of elaborate double doors, which he did not open. Christine realised now that she could once again hear music.

"I have yet to introduce you to what it is that I do. I want to show you my reason for being; my existence but I could not do it any old way, not through taking you to see an opera or anything like that. I want to share it with you." He said softly, as the music began to swell to a crescendo. Christine felt something deep inside of her, something that could not be explained as a slight smile crossed Erik's mouth.

"This, Christine… is my world."

The doors flew open and music muffled her senses for a moment before she saw that they were at the top of a sweeping staircase. Before her with faces, hundreds of faces, all masked, colours flying about, a dazzling, shimmering whirlpool of colour and music which she and Erik began to descend into. A light fell upon the pair as they stepped down the stairs and the voices hushed at the sight. A pirate stood on the first platform of the steps. It was Nadir. He turned to the crowd and introduced the couple.

"And finally, Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Red Death and the Maiden Queen!"

Thunderous applause. Apparently other important guests had been introduced as well. Nadir beamed at the both before turning back to the crowd.

"The dancing will begin directly and will be started by my most gracious lord and lady." He bowed to Erik and Christine, ever gracious.

Erik, not in the least bit fazed (why should he be? He probably had the whole thing planned!), led Christine down the last few steps, into the very centre of the room. He turned, placing his hands in the correct places. His eyes met Christine's and she smiled. He did not return it but his eyes softened slightly amidst the heavy make-up.

Music began and Christine almost started with surprise as she recognised the tune. It was the melody from the monkey box! Of course, it was far more elaborate now and much more elegant than the simple, tinny tune but it was definitely recognisable. She did not speak but Erik's smirk was more than enough to assure her of his knowledge regarding her revelation.

More and more dancers began to join them in dancing. Christine let out a quiet laugh at the freedom of the affair and was sorry when the dance ended. Erik kissed her hand and led her from the crowd of dancers, who were all eagerly awaiting the next song. They were instantly accosted by Nadir and Sorelli, who was looking simply beautiful in a colourful dress and elaborate mask.

"You guys sure know how to make an entrance!" She teased. "Christine, you look _fabulous_!"

"So do you, Sorelli. Of course, we won't ever be able to talk about it. Meg'd never forgive us." Christine reminded her. Nadir smiled at her.

"I must agree, you look wonderful."

"Ahem."

"But obviously not as wonderful as Sorelli." He put in hastily. Sorelli giggled, taking his arm.

"We're going to get a drink. Want anything?"

Erik and Christine assured her that they didn't. Once they were alone, Christine looked up at him.

"You… you are amazing."

"In what way?"

"In every way!" Christine laughed. "The music, the costumes, it's all so wonderful!"

"Good. Because I intend to make tonight memorable in every possible way." Erik told her, taking her hand. "Would you care to dance again?"

As they danced again, Christine's mind wandered. She looked up at Erik, who was glancing at the other guests. She couldn't see much of his face, only his chin and mouth. But she mentally removed the mask and saw his face. The normal side first, the smooth skin and the strong jaw. And then the other side, the side that had made him so afraid. The twisted skin, the caved-in nose, the harsh red and blue of the flesh.

_Later…I promise._

_

* * *

_

The heat was overpowering as the evening passed by. Christine and Erik stood to one side and she excused herself to go to the bathroom, whilst he went to fetch them drinks. Christine squeezed through the bustling, dancing, chattering people to the door that led to the bathroom. There were a couple of women standing in front of the mirror, reapplying lipstick and powdering their faces. Christine pulled her mask off and pushed her hair out of her face. Her face was pink with the warmth. One of the women looked at her curiously.

"The Maiden Queen, the one who led the dancing?"

"Yes."

"Gorgeous outfit." She smiled. Christine smiled back before heading into a cubicle. When she came back out, the women were gone. She paused to sort herself out in the mirror before putting her mask back onto her face.

Yet another song had begun, a cheerful waltz. Christine glanced around and Nadir appeared at her elbow.

"Do you suppose Erik would lynch me if I stole you for a dance?" He smiled. Christine tilted her head, pretending to think.

"Only one way to find out." She replied. Nadir laughed and they joined in the string of dancers. Christine was relieved that, whilst many things were beyond her, picking up dance steps seemed to be reasonably simple for her. The dance was simple enough, although it involved the changing of partners on a regular basis. Christine danced with a knight, a bull fighter, a king and what she supposed was a Viking before she met the last partner, a man wearing an impeccably smart costume from what appeared to be the Victorian period. Christine had barely taken his hand before she realised who it was, her partner's cheeky grin giving himself away.

"Raoul!"

"You look beautiful tonight." He grinned, spinning her around and catching her again. Christine wanted to pull away but the dancers were all pressed so close together that she could barely move.

"The Maiden Queen… should I get the reference?"

"It's William Blake." Christine said calmly. "And what are you?"

"Enchanted." He smiled. Christine narrowed her eyes behind the mask and he laughed. "Fine! I'm not entirely sure; I just liked the look of it to be perfectly honest. I'm not really into this whole dressing up thing."

Christine's eyes darted swiftly around the room but she found no sign of Red Death. Raoul spun her again, copying the other dancers and noticed her avoiding his gaze.

"Christine, surely we can share _one_ dance without being completely hostile towards each other? We're not children."

"No. But I am here with someone else."

"I know. Red Death. Cheerful bloke, isn't he, that Erik?" He commented lightly. Christine frowned.

"You don't know him, Raoul."

"Don't want to. And I very much doubt that he wants to know me either. So it all works out rather nicely for everyone."

The music hit its crescendo and ended on a triumphant note. Raoul bowed and Christine returned with a polite curtsey. He put his hand back to her waist, clearly intending to take another dance, but a black, leather-gloved hand caught his wrist.

"My turn." Erik said icily, taking Christine by the arm. Raoul looked rather affronted but the pair disappeared into the crowd before he could comment.

* * *

His eyes found her straight away. The shimmering angel that danced so gracefully amongst the sea of common mortals. Erik watched her for a moment before turning his attention to Christine's partner. A strongly built character, in navy blue with a mask covering the top half of his face, his blonde hair tied into a short ponytail at the base of his neck.

De Chagny.

The glasses he was holding instantly went to the table as Erik moved through the throng of dancers, watching the pair closely. They appeared to be talking as they danced. The _boy_ was grinning inanely and Christine seemed to be frowning as she answered his comment. The music finished and they ended the dance formally. The boy's hand went to her waist, seemingly presuming that he had the right to a second dance. Erik decided that it was time to interrupt.

He pushed de Chagny's hand back.

"My turn." He said, meeting his eyes with a flashing glare before leading Christine away from the dancers, towards the edge of the room. She looked up at him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He handed her a glass of wine and then glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. Christine caught his gaze and smiled.

"Ready to go?"

"If you wish to stay-"

"No, I'm ready to go. I just want to find Sorelli and say goodbye." She said, putting her glass down. She paused and then reached up on tiptoe to kiss him swiftly on the mouth before leaving.

Christine caught sight of Sorelli's bright outfit and squeezed through to her.

"Sorelli, Erik and I are going now."

"OK. Isn't it great though?" Sorelli grinned, revelling in the gaiety of the occasion.

"Definitely. Have a great night." Christine smiled, hugging her and Nadir. She turned and came face to face with a large pink blob.

Actually, it was Carlotta, wearing an enormous, elaborate dress of pink and white, clutching a fan in one hand. But I digress.

Carlotta barely gave Christine a sideways glance, did a double-take and looked at her again. Sorelli smiled in a rather saccharine manner.

"Carlotta, what a nice costume!"

"Sorelli, you look adorable." Carlotta cooed, apparently not sensing the thickly hidden sarcasm. Her eyes darted over Christine's outfit briefly. "And you…uh…"

She seemed to hold back some forced laughter.

"Well, I must be going, I've got lots of people to meet and greet!" She vanished and Sorelli patted a fuming Christine's shoulders.

"Chris, you look fabulous. Let's face it, she looks like a meringue in that outfit." This was true and Christine had to smile at the admission. She said goodbye to the pair and turned to Erik, who had joined them.

"Let's get out of here."

"The most attractive proposition of the night." Erik assured her, taking her hand and walking to the door.

* * *

Erik watched in amusement as Christine gazed wistfully at the dress. She was now clad in her bedclothes but the dress that hung on the wardrobe door had captured her attention for several minutes now.

"Christine?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you plan on sleeping at all?" She looked over at him and smiled sheepishly.

"I just… it just seems like such a waste that it'll never even get worn again."

"There may be an occasion."

"I hope so. It's so beautiful and you must have spent so much time designing it." She said regretfully. Erik's mouth twitched.

"Christine, come to bed."

She crossed to the bed and curled up beneath the blankets. Her toes were cold and she pressed them against the cotton of his trousers. He hissed and she laughed, nestling against him. He closed his eyes as she switched off the bedside lamp. As her eyes accustomed to the darkness, she examined his face, looking at it as she had in her mind earlier that night.

She laid her head on the pillow, so that she could only see his mutilated half. He looked like a demon. He was an Angel trapped in a demon's face.

"Erik…" She whispered, barely audible. He didn't open his eyes.

"Yes?"

"…I love you."

For several long, agonising minutes he lay there and Christine began to wonder if he was asleep. But then his face turned to hers on the pillow, confusion obvious in his eyes.

"What?" He whispered. Christine didn't smile. She just looked at him.

"I love you."

He blinked and then a very tiny smile touched his lips.

"You weren't going to say that, remember?"

"I changed my mind." She smiled back. Erik's smile widened even further and Christine touched his disfigured cheek. "I love you. Everything about you."

"Everything?" He said doubtfully.

"Everything single thing." She said firmly. "Especially this." Her fingers traced his cheek and he frowned.

"How?"

"If you didn't have this face, you wouldn't be who you are. You'd be different and if you were different I wouldn't love you the way I do."

Erik just smiled at her. She laughed, a little embarrassed.

"What are you smiling at?"

"…Nothing." He pulled her close to him. Perhaps it was customary to make love, after the person you adored more than life itself told you that she loved you. But Erik was far more content to know that she was simply _there_.

**A/N: OK, this is what happens when I don't write for ages. I debate every tiny thing that I write until the whole chapter seems like a huge mistake. Sometimes you just write a chapter and you KNOW that it's perfect, and that it's exactly the way you wanted it to be and sometimes you get chapters like this, where you can't do a thing to make yourself feel better about it. Maybe it's because almost all of my stories so far have had a Masquerade ball in it, I just can't write them anymore without thinking 'uh oh, can't do that, I did that in Cold, Cold Heart' or 'hmm, that's a bit too much like The Phantom of the Opera'.**

**Sigh hopefully you enjoyed it, though. And yes! She FINALLY said it, which was why I wanted to get the Masquerade on this chapter, because that was just a way of getting Christine to say it. **

**Well, I've planned out the next bit of the story. Vaguely. I want to concentrate a bit more on the whole Anna back story, get some of that out etc, but there will be other dramas for our favourite couple to contend with!**

**Love **

**Katie**


	29. Birthday Dreams

**The Girl Next Door**

"_Happy Birthday dear Christine, Happy Birthday to you_!"

Christine blew out the candles as her workmates cheered and applauded. She blushed and grinned around at them, straightening her yellow party hat.

"You didn't have to do this, guys."

"We wanted to. It's not everyday you turn twenty-five!" Jammes said cheerfully. Meg sniggered.

"You're a quarter of a century old!"

"Great, now I feel ancient." Christine muttered, as Tessa began to cut the cake up and hand bits out. Sorelli thrust a present at her.

"Here! Open mine first!"

As she unwrapped the brightly papered gifts, Meg asked,

"What's Erik got you?"

"I don't know."

"I bet it's something really romantic. He seems the type." Sorelli said, sitting down and placing her hands comfortably over her stomach. Now five months into her pregnancy, her bump was at a considerable size. No longer could she get away with pretending that she wasn't pregnant. Of course, being a fashion lover, she had devised several stunning outfits to not only focus on her pregnancy, but make it part of the design. Although the purple party hat, perched at a jaunty angle, rather took away from the effect.

Christine was happily examining her latest gift (Jammes' present of scented bath oils) when Firmin stopped by and held out a bouquet of flowers.

"For my best girl."

"Richard, I'm hurt! I thought _I_ was your best girl?" Meg said in a wounded voice. Firmin rolled his eyes and Christine smiled.

"Thanks Richard."

"No problem." He eyed the cake and Christine laughed.

"Help yourself." He promptly did so and as he sat down with them all to chat, they were joined by Steven. Sorelli simply picked up a piece of cake, balancing it on her bump as she started to talk with Meg. Steven handed Christine a box of chocolates.

"From the communications department."

"Thanks Steven." Christine smiled. Steven nodded, cast a wary glance at Meg and Sorelli and hurried away.

Firmin arched an eyebrow.

"You made an impression on that one, Meg."

"Are you going to tell me off?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I can't be bothered to sort out office dramas." He brushed a few crumbs from his moustache and stood up. "Enjoy your birthday, Christine."

Christine nodded and looked around at the numerous gifts.

"I think I might call Erik and see if he'll give me a lift home. I'll never be able to carry all of this back."

"Yes, it must be tragic, being so popular and loved." Sorelli said in a cheerful voice. Christine had actually been very surprised at the number of gifts she'd received. She hadn't realised how many people she'd actually made an impression on at the office.

"Happy birthday, Christine." Said a voice behind her. Christine peered around and inwardly groaned as Raoul smiled, clutching a gift in his hands.

"What are you doing here, Raoul?" She said tiredly.

"I needed to talk with Firmin and since I was here, I figured I'd drop off your gift."

"Do you not remember what I said about gifts?"

"Accept them, say thank you and not return it to the shop as soon as I leave?" Raoul guessed. Christine couldn't help smiling. She was in a good mood and even Raoul's presence wouldn't put her off.

"Not quite."

"Have it anyway. Happy birthday." He put it down with her other gifts and strolled to Firmin's office, whistling nonchalantly.

Christine chewed the inside of her cheek. Meg watched her impatiently.

"Well? Aren't you going to open it?" She demanded after several moments. Christine shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Fine, I'll do it." Meg said, seized the gift and pulled the paper off. Christine began to object but Meg had already opened the present. It was a box set of classical CD's. Meg looked decidedly unimpressed but Christine picked up the case to read the list of songs.

"Wow… I hate to admit this, but this is really good."

"Aren't you being a bit childish? I mean… he really looks like he just wants to be friends again. There's no rule that divorced couples _have_ to hate each other." Sorelli pointed out. Christine shrugged again.

"I don't know. Maybe. Anyway, I'd better pack all of this stuff up and ring Erik."

* * *

Of course, Erik agreed to come and meet her after work. He was standing outside when she struggled through the door with a large number of gifts and balloons, still wearing her party hat. He smirked at the sight and took several gifts off of her, placing them in the boot of the car. She smiled.

"Thank you, Erik. I never would have made it home."

"It's not exactly a chore." He pointed out. Christine beamed at him.

"So… do I get a birthday kiss?"

He happily obliged. Christine waved goodbye to Sorelli and Meg, who were heading to Sorelli's for an evening of Johnny Depp films and climbed into the car.

"What's the plan for the evening then?" She asked. Erik lifted his visible eyebrow as they stopped at a red traffic light.

"The plan is that I make you your favourite dinner, pour you a glass of your favourite wine, put on one of your favourite films and then seduce you."

"_Excellent_ plan."

"I thought so too." He smirked. Christine laughed and as he pulled forward he asked, "What did you get for your birthday?"

Christine began to run off the list of presents, before hesitating.

"And…uh, Raoul stopped by to see Firmin and gave me some classical CD's." Erik looked at her with an expression that can only be described as irate bewilderment. "I thought it was weird as well. But if he's going to be all sensible and mature about it, so am I."

"Hmm." Erik replied flatly. Christine smiled.

"But right now, I just want to get home and spend the evening with you."

"I'm extremely glad to hear it." Erik commented, pulling into Gaston Place. Cat was sat patiently by the door and followed them inside. Once upstairs, Christine went to change into something more comfortable than her work clothes, whilst Erik began to prepare dinner. He had imagined that her favourite meal would have been something far more extravagant than Shepherd's Pie, but each to their own.

Christine crossed back to Erik's apartment. He was in the kitchen. Christine smiled and then caught sight of some music that was perched on the piano. She went to have a look and found it to be from _Don Juan Triumphant_. The folder was lying on top of the piano and she tucked them inside, not wanting them to get ruined. But as she opened the folder, she saw some costume designs. The name _Aminta_ was written carefully next to each of the drawings of a woman with dark curls, brown eyes and pale skin in a variety of beautiful costumes. Christine lifted one of the drawings to examine the picture before glancing at the music. He had been changing it, altering the notes. She read some of the lyrics and then jumped as Erik, who was standing just behind her, said,

"Did I leave that out?"

"Erik! I mean… yes, there was some music out and I didn't want it to get ruined…" She said, going rather red. Erik looked at her curiously.

"Are you quite alright?"

"Yes, I just… I didn't mean to look but-"

"It's fine." He shuffled the music back into place. Christine glanced at the paper.

"You've been changing it?"

"Slightly. A few songs needed altering." He glanced at her. "Calm yourself. I'm not angry. Tea?"

The atmosphere warmed again and Christine sat with Erik to watch the evening news, Cat sat on the coffee table, cleaning his face with one paw. Christine stroked Erik's hand softly, admiring the long fingers and how pale the skin was.

"I've been thinking about buying a car." She said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've never had much need for one before, but with everything getting so hectic, it might just be the easier option."

"We can go and look for one next week, if you like." Erik offered. Christine nodded and settled to watch the television.

The evening was one of those rare perfect ones. They left the balcony doors open, allowing a balmy July breeze to seep into the apartment as they watched _Casablanca_ and ate Shepherd's Pie.

"Leave the washing up, we can do it in the morning." Christine said, stretching lazily as Erik began to clear the plates. He put them in the kitchen and then returned them to her, pulling her to her feet and over to the balcony. They stood on the small ledge, watching the view. It wasn't generally much of a view, lots of buildings and a few trees in the distance, but the sun had finally begun its descent and cast a beautiful golden glow over the land.

"Would you like your birthday present now?" Erik asked, oh-so-casually. Christine smiled.

"Do you even need to ask?"

He smirked, reached into his pocket and pulled out a narrow jewellery box, covered in black velvet. Christine's eyes widened as he handed it to her.

"Erik…" He was watching her closely and her curiosity overwhelmed her. She opened the box, stared at the contents for a moment, before looking quickly up at Erik and then back to the stunning necklace in the velvet case.

Christine owned many necklaces, in many different colours, but she had _never_ seen one as purely beautiful as this. A slender chain of white gold with a small crystal sphere hanging from it, changing in the light from dark pink, to ruby red. It was one of those laser-shot crystals, with a 3D image in the centre. Christine lifted it form the box to eye level to examine the image inside. It was a rose, petals at full bloom, the stem free from thorns and with a ribbon tied around it.

She gazed at the rose for a moment before looking at Erik.

"This is too much…"

"I want to see you wear it." He interrupted her protests and Christine fell silent. She looked back to the necklace. Erik took it from her hands and turned her, so her back was to him. He softly brushed the hair away from her neck, slipping the chain around her and doing up the clasp at the back before reaching around with his hand to straighten it, with the crystal hanging at the front. He pressed his cheek to her hair and held her gently.

"Happy Birthday, Christine." He murmured, as they watched the setting sun hang in the sky.

* * *

"_Erik, who is she?" Anna whispered, holding the drawings of Aminta in her hands. Erik stared at her._

"_Who is she?" Anna asked again. _

"…_Christine."_

_Anna looked down at the drawings again. Erik looked her up and down, bewildered. She looked so… different. She was blurred, as though he were looking at her through frosted glass. _

_As though he had forgotten exactly what she looked like._

"_Christine." She murmured, touching the pencilled face before placing the paper on the piano and turning to him. Erik steeled himself for her words, wanting to push her away and pull her close all at the same time. _

"_You've forgotten me, haven't you Erik?"_

_

* * *

_

He woke with a strangled rasp. Christine didn't wake, but rolled over in her sleep, dark curls spilling over the pillows. Erik stared down at her and then climbed out of bed, going into the living room. He sank onto the sofa, trembling although the night air was warm. Beads of cold perspiration slipped down his face and Erik made no move to wipe them away. His breathing was ragged but a single word escaped his lips.

"Anna…"

Meg and Sorelli were both very impressed by the necklace the next day. Sorelli whistled as she examined it.

"That, Christine, is one hell of a guy, you've got there."

"I know." Christine smiled in spite of herself. She touched the necklace hanging at her throat and then glanced at her work. "I'd better get some of this editing done. I've got a few final designs to send over to the Hawthorn for their approval. The advertising gig starts at the end of next week, I just don't know where the time has gone."

"That's a non-too subtle hint for us to get lost." Meg grinned, hopping off the desk. "Meet you tonight for birthday drinks?"

"Can't wait." Christine smiled. The four of them (they had invited a delighted Jammes) were meeting at Club Garnier for a couple of hours that evening. She picked up her final pieces and left her office to go to the fax machine. Carlotta and Firmin were nearby and he smiled at Christine.

"Are those the Hawthorn pieces?"

"Ye, just sending them for a final approval before we get the lot printed and sent out. Meg and Jammes have finished the radio advertisements as well, I'll take those over to the theatre later on and if they like them, I can just send them straight out to the radio stations."

"Good work, Christine. I must say, you've been handling your workload remarkably well." Firmin commented. Christine smiled.

"Thanks, Richard."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Jammes has a review coming up, just to see how she's managing here. She's been here for six months now. I'd like you be there with us, you seem to know her best."

"That's fine." Christine checked that the faxes had gone through and then returned to her office, feeling rather cheerful.

Erik, on the other hand, was feeling far from perky. The rehearsals had been fine, the singers on key, the dancers in step, the cues and lighting perfect – but Erik barely noticed.

He had not, of course, told Christine about his dream. How could he? But he did not understand why he was having these dreams again. After Christmas Eve, he had not had a single dream about Anna. He had thought about her, obviously, and had told Christine about her. But he hadn't…

Erik sat in his office, staring at the wall opposite him as he once more became lost in his thoughts. They were only interrupted when he realised Nadir had come into the room.

"I do so hate to interrupt your staring competition with the wall, but the final designs have arrived and I wanted to run them by you." He said, dropping the pile onto his desk. Erik glanced at them and Nadir eyed him. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

"You're lying, Erik." Erik looked at him flatly and Nadir sat on the chair opposite him. "Care to discuss it?"

"Do I ever care to discuss things?"

"No, but I'm hoping Christine has softened you up a little."

Erik picked up the top design from the pile.

"I'm afraid not, Nadir. You may just have to cease in your attempt to turn me into a conventional member of society and get on with your job." Nadir held up his hands in surrender, before standing.

"Your choice, Erik. You know where to find me if you change your mind, although I know exactly how likely _that_ is."

Erik didn't reply. He turned to the next design. Nadir watched him for a moment, sighed heavily and left the office. Erik glanced at the closed door and tossed the design onto the desk, wishing suddenly that he had had the courage to tell Nadir exactly what was on his mind.

* * *

Christine left the office a little early in order to take the radio adverts to the Hawthorn. She sat on the bus, examining one of Jammes' designs until it was her stop. She walked the few minutes to the theatre and went inside. The receptionist glanced up.

"How may I help you?" She asked.

"I'm looking for either Mr Khan or Mr Destler, I'm from Populaire Advertising."

"Mr Khan is in the main theatre and Mr Destler is in his office."

"No, I'm right here." Nadir said, emerging from a corridor. Christine smiled at him and held up the CD's.

"Radio advertisements. I just need you to listen and approve so I can send them to the stations."

"Come right through."

She followed Nadir along a corridor, until he stopped her.

"I don't suppose you have any idea what's gotten into Erik?"

"No, why? Is he alright?" She asked, concern growing. Nadir shrugged.

"He's been completely absent all day. Mentally, I mean. He was barely paying attention to the rehearsals and he's refusing to talk to me, although that's nothing new. I was wondering if you knew anything."

"No, he was fine earlier…"

Although, come to think of it, Erik hadn't been completely himself that morning. He had behaved normally but she had caught him staring at her and then looking away quickly almost as soon as she looked at him. Christine frowned.

"I don't know. I'm sure he's fine."

"Maybe." Nadir paused and then smiled. "Let's listen to these recordings. I'll find the great virtuoso himself."

He led her to Erik's office, knocking on the door and entering before a reply was given. Erik was scribbling on some paper, clearly deeply occupied.

"What do you want?" He snapped, not looking up.

"We were wondering if you'd like to listen to the radio advertisements before I send them to the stations." Christine answered for Nadir. Erik's head snapped up in astonishment.

"Christine!"

"Well, at least he's glad to see _one_ of us." Nadir commented dryly. "Let's listen to the advertisements, shall we?" He crossed to the CD player and began to set it up. Erik glanced at the clock, surprised at the time and began to clear his desk, stopping once the sound began. Meg and Jammes had taken excerpts of the music that the theatre had provided and hired a professional female voiceover to give the name and details of the opera. Christine had been incredibly pleased with the result. Jammes and Meg had been overjoyed at the praise they were receiving, Jammes especially. Christine had already decided to keep her on the radio gigs from now on.

"_That_…" Nadir said as the advert finished, "is exceptionally impressive."

"I thought so too." Christine agreed. She looked at Erik, who nodded.

"I don't think it could be much better than that."

"Fantastic. I'll send it off tomorrow then, it should be ready in time for the advertising campaign."

"Good. Well, you may as well leave, Erik, there's not much else you can get done today. And try to come back in a sweeter mood tomorrow." Nadir said. Erik glowered at him for a moment, but he merely smiled beatifically and left the office. Christine suppressed a smile as Erik muttered darkly about a noose and Nadir.

"Someone's in a bad mood." She commented lightly. Erik looked up at her and finally gave a smile.

"Hmm. I didn't sleep particularly well and I just can't concentrate today."

"Let's go home. I'll make us some dinner and then you can get an early night, whilst I go to meet Meg, Jammes and Sorelli for birthday drinks."

"That sounds like a good idea." Erik said, reaching for his jacket.

* * *

"Twenty-five years and counting! Congratulations, Christine." Meg gave the toast as they all clinked glasses. Jammes smiled.

"You make it sound like she's got a week left before she croaks."

"Just because you're still young and carefree." Sorelli commented.

"I'm twenty-two! It's not like you're that much older than me!" Jammes laughed. Christine smiled at their banter and Meg looked at her.

"Well, anyway, happy birthday."

"Thanks guys. It's been a really… _interesting_ year. But at least things are finally alright now. Touch wood." She rapped the table with her knuckles. Meg smiled.

"Yeah, your life has sucked for a while."

"Thanks Meg."

"But as you said, things are better. I mean, you've got one hell of a boyfriend, a great job, absolutely _fantastic_ friends… what more could you need?"

Nothing, Christine thought, as she watched Jammes and Sorelli squabble cheerfully over whose turn it was to buy drinks.

Nothing at all.

**A/N: Well, chapter is up! Hopefully it won't be too long before the next one is up either, since I've got half term at the moment, which means a week off. W00t! Anywho, I tried to end on a vaguely cheerful note, it being Valentine's Day tomorrow and, for the first time ever, I actually have a boyfriend to celebrate it with! And if you hate Valentine's Day, there's enough angst in the chapter to get you through, hopefully! **

**So we're going to see Underworld 2. How romantic.**

**Anyway, thank you for all the reviews; they are all much loved and appreciative. Please keep them coming! Over 1100 now, _unbelievable_! You guys rock. You really do.**

**Love**

**Katie**


	30. Office Drama

**The Girl Next Door**

"I like that one." Christine said, pointing at a car. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's a nice colour and I like the shape." She shrugged, unwilling to admit her lack of knowledge when it came to cars. Erik was obviously aware of it anyway. He sighed.

"You don't want that car. They're not particularly reliable. I think you would be more suited to this." He patted the bonnet of a different car. Christine considered it.

"Well… do you think so?"

"Yes. And it may not be your favourite colour, but it will certainly be more practical in the long run."

Christine chewed her lip and then nodded.

"Alright. I'll trust you on this one." She looked around for the salesman, who came hurrying over to help them. Whilst he and Christine discussed payment and insurance and other boring details, Erik watched Christine carefully. She may not know much about cars, but she was certainly good with people. The salesman had been giving Erik curious looks since they'd arrived, no doubt instigated by the presence of the white mask. Erik had been ignoring him, something that Christine had been aware of and had therefore chosen to talk to the salesman herself, rather than put Erik into a position of awkwardness.

After some time, everything was sorted. Christine wrote out a cheque, gave her details and was assured that she would be contacted within a week when everything was cleared. She turned to Erik and smiled.

"Well, that's that."

"Shall we go somewhere for dinner?" He said as they returned to his car. "Perhaps a restaurant?"

"That sounds nice. Any particular occasion?" She said, slipping her hand into his as they crossed the concrete of the car park.

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"Not at all." She smiled.

* * *

"Have you seen this?" Meg said, bursting into Christine's office the next day. Christine didn't look up.

"Seen what?" She muttered, reading over some documents.

"This." Meg thrust a piece of paper at her. It was clearly torn from the notice board and declared that there was to be a birthday party to celebrate Carlotta Guidacelli's twenty-fifth birthday. Christine glanced at it.

"Oh."

"Everyone in the office is invited."

"Oh."

"Are you going?"

"I actually had plans to throw myself to a pack of bloodthirsty wolves that night." Christine commented dryly. Meg grinned.

"C'mon, it could be fun! We'll go, laugh, make fun of the birthday girl…"

"Meg, there is no way in hell that you could persuade me to go to that party." Christine said, looking at the notice again. "For a start, I can't stand Carlotta, and I'm pretty sure she feels the same way about me. And secondly, this party is two weeks on Saturday, which is when Firmin wants me to spend the day in London on that course."

"You'll be back in time for the evening." Meg pointed out. "And why would she put that everyone in the office is invited if she didn't mean you?"

"Because she's not about to write 'everyone in the office, except Christine Daae!'"

Meg huffed and folded her arms.

"At least _think_ about it."

"Fine. And now I'm going to get on with my work, which you should also be doing." Christine said, returning to the documents. Meg glared at the top of her head and then left, muttering darkly.

* * *

Erik was dozing in an armchair when Christine got back from work. Cat was curled on his lap and his eyes opened to glance at his mistress before he stretched, claws bared. Christine knelt by the chair to look at Erik. He had been sleeping fitfully at night; she had often heard him waking. Sometimes he got up and sometimes he went back to sleep. But he had never mentioned it to her, so she had decided to wait until he said something before bringing it up. She assumed it was the pressure of work; _Hannibal_ was due to open in just over a month and a half. Now he seemed somewhat peaceful. Christine went into his kitchen to make herself some tea and sat at the island counter to read the local newspaper. There wasn't much of interest to her and she returned to the living room, to find Erik waking. Cat leapt gracefully from his lap to prowl around, stretching his limbs. Erik looked at her in surprise.

"When did you get back?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Sleep well?"

"I did." He was rather surprised, but certainly pleased by the fact. Christine smiled at him.

"Good. You look like you needed the sleep. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please."

She went back to the kitchen and Erik followed her.

"How was work?" He asked.

"It was fine. Rather dull today, actually. But I got quite a lot of work done and the campaign starts in two weeks. That'll keep me busy." She said, pouring hot water into a mug. Erik nodded and watched as she prepared his tea. After a few moments she glanced at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"…You seem… I don't know. Why don't you go and sleep for a bit longer? Maybe you're coming down with something." Christine said, starting to become concerned. Erik smiled slightly at her anxiety.

"I'm fine. A little tired, but I shall get an early night."

"If you're sure." She said, clearly not satisfied. Erik took the tea and sipped it as she put the used spoon into the sink.

"Would you care to do some music?" He asked. She nodded, smiling.

"That'd be great."

She followed him back into the living room and stood by the open balcony windows as he sat at his piano. They did their usual warm ups and once he was sure that she was ready to sing, he searched through his many songs, all kept carefully in plastic folders to protect them. Even copies of the songs he used in his operas were in here, as well as some pieces that were not his own. He looked at her.

"Any requests?"

"I'll let you choose, maestro." Christine said breezily. He considered the many pieces and then took one out.

"I don't believe we've tried this one before."

"Is it one of yours?"

"No." He gave her the music and she read the music as he played it through once. The second time around she began to sing, growing more certain as the music played on.

"_Ah! Je ris de me voir  
si belle en ce miroir,  
Ah! Je ris de me voir  
si belle en ce miroir._"

He stopped her on several occasions until she was singing it considerably better than she had on her first attempt. It truly was a joy to listen to, hearing her voice improve on each passing try until he knew that he could make her perfect. Eventually he could resist no longer and stopped her. She looked at him expectantly but he didn't say anything. He merely picked up '_The Jewel Song_', slipped it back into its plastic wallet and reached for _Don Juan Triumphant_. Christine's eyes widened briefly and he placed the same piece of music before her, with only the two lines on it. He didn't speak; he merely sat back down and began to play. Christine watched him for a moment before turning her attention to the music before her.

She sang it at least five times before he put the music away again. As he paused, yet again, she worked up the nerve to speak.

"Erik, why don't you release _Don Juan Triumphant_?" He looked at her and she pressed on. "I've heard it, and I've sung it. It's beautiful music. I mean, it's not your average opera, it's very different. But it's still beautiful. It could be such a success." She said earnestly.

"You don't understand."

"Well, _make_ me understand." Christine said firmly. Erik breathed heavily.

"You read music differently to other people. Especially my music. We have shared so much music that you cannot possibly see how much of a failure _Don Juan Triumphant_ would be."

"How could it fail?"

"People go to operas with certain expectations, which _Don Juan Triumphant _does not abide to. If I were ever to put this opera on, people would go expecting to see _Hannibal_ or _Il Muto_. They would not be able to bear the disappointment or they would be repulsed by what they hear. This music, Christine, is far too important to have it scorned by them."

She looked at him, slightly confused.

"Since when have you cared what they think?" She whispered. Erik looked up at her and then back at the music.

"From the beginning."

"Erik-" He began to play loudly, drowning out her words. A heavy weight settled in Christine's chest as she started to sing again.

* * *

A couple of days later was Jammes' review. She sat nervously in Firmin's office with him and Christine. Firmin went over her self-evaluation with her and once that was finished, he looked to Christine.

"I've asked Christine to join us since you two have been working together and she'll have a better idea of how you're doing." He smiled at her. "Over to you."

Christine smiled at Jammes.

"Stop panicking, OK? You've got nothing to worry about. Your work has been very impressive for someone of your experience in the business. You're surpassing the standards and targets that were set for you when you started here and you're branching into other areas as well. Meg said that you were really enjoying the radio side."

"I am." Jammes nodded.

"As you know, we've been trialling you on the Hawthorn projects and you've done exceptionally on it. But Richard and I have been speaking and we think you're ready to fly solo for a bit." Christine said. Jammes looked decidedly nervous. Christine took out a sheet of paper. "We got a request from Noel Lefevre. He's finished his latest novel and he wants us to do his advertising again. I'm putting you in charge of a team. Josh and Alex from graphics are on it, you already know them. And there are a couple of people from other departments as well. You know how it all works and now's your time to try it out for yourself."

Jammes was gaping at her incredulously.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I've already informed the team, so all you need to do is get started. If there's any trouble, you know where to get help." Christine smiled. Jammes took the paper, a lovely smile lighting up her face.

"Christine, thank you so much! I can't believe it!"

"You're welcome. I need to have a word with Richard, so why don't you get started?" Jammes nodded, beamed at them both, and left the office, looking as though she were walking on air. Firmin smiled at Christine.

"I think you've just established the role as heroine in her eyes."

"She's got a good brain for the business. She could go so far, Richard, she just needs a push in the right direction." Christine said earnestly.

"I'm glad you think so. Sorelli is going to be going on maternity leave in three months and I was trying to decide who to give her workload to. It's a toss-up at the moment."

"Between who?" Christine said, leaning forward in interest.

Firmin cleared his throat.

"Well, one, obviously, is Jammes…"

"And?"

"And… Carlotta."

"_What_?" Christine hissed. Firmin huffed.

"I know you don't get on, Christine, but-"

"She doesn't know what she's doing! She's not produced a single piece of work since she's been here! How can you be considering her for a position of that importance? Sorelli has an enormous workload; she'd never be able to cope!"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. We've had a request from Mr Guidacelli that Carlotta is made into a more… permanent member of the company. A sort of envoy of Guidacelli Tech, someone to update Mr Guidacelli on the proceedings here and how effectively the technology is being used."

"Richard, you can't be _serious_!" Christine said angrily. "You can't give her that much power over the company! She gives the word and the whole of Populaire Advertising could go under!"

"Which is exactly why we must comply with Mr Guidacelli's instructions." Firmin said. "Carlotta will not be given free reign but she will have a lot of… access."

Christine just looked at him in disgust.

"Surely we are making enough money for the company to become self-reliant?"

"Enough that we don't need a backer but not enough to give us the equipment updates that we need. Without up-to-date equipment, we would soon become ineffectual in comparison to other companies. With the Guidacelli's backing, we can continue to grow and hire more staff, as well as produce the same standard of advertising that Populaire prides itself in." Firmin pointed out in an assuring voice. "Carlotta won't be able to make any large decisions without first consulting me and she won't interfere with your work. If anything, she is an employee of Guidacelli Tech, not Populaire Advertising."

Christine did not look convinced. She exhaled irritably.

"Fine, Richard. But don't give her Sorelli's work. Give it to Jammes, or Meg, or _anyone_ except her. Let her do Daddy's dirty work, but don't let her into our business."

"I can't make that promise, Christine." Firmin said and Christine knew very well that he couldn't. But she thought she'd ask anyway. She stood up.

"I'd better get back to work."

"Christine, this information isn't exactly public yet. I don't suppose I need to tell you to keep it to yourself. Although Meg and Sorelli will probably pick it up as well." He said dryly, his moustache twitching in amusement. Christine smiled weakly.

"Got it."

"Oh, and Christine? We will _all_ be attending Carlotta's birthday party." Firmin said. Christine lifted an eyebrow.

"I've got that course."

"It'll be over by then. You _will_ attend. Bring Mr Destler if you want, but do at least show your face there."

* * *

"We're doomed." Meg said simply. "Doomed."

"Screw maternity leave, I'll have the baby at work." Sorelli said gloomily. "No way am I letting Carlotta get her hands on my work. I'll just have the baby by the fax machine and get on with it."

"I mean, we don't hate her the way you do, Christine, but I don't relish the idea of having her in a position of that much power." Meg said, stirring her mocha late. Christine sighed heavily.

"I know… but there's not much else we can do about it. If Firmin turns her down, Populaire's done for."

"And if we keep her, Populaire's done for." Sorelli added. Christine sipped at her coffee and looked out of the window. The late July weather had turned from glorious sunshine to a threatening thunderstorm. The heavy black cloud loomed ominously as they sat in the café for an after-work coffee.

"Well… I suppose there's nothing we can do now, except for put up with it." Meg said decisively.

"I guess so." Christine said, rather miserably. "God, she's going to make my life a living hell, isn't she?"

"Absolutely. But we'll be there to defend you." Sorelli promised. She grinned and patted her stomach again. "It's kicking again." Meg squealed and leant over to feel. No matter how many times she felt it, it always amazed her. Sorelli laughed and looked over at Christine.

"Nadir and I are going to the doctors on Saturday for a check-up. I don't know whether or not I want to know if it's a boy or a girl."

"I hope it's a girl." Meg said, still leaning over Sorelli's bump.

"I don't care. As long as it's healthy, it doesn't matter." Sorelli said firmly. "I'll see how I feel on the day and then I'll decide on whether or not I want to know."

Meg gave Christine a lift home. As they pulled into the car park, Meg said,

"Look, don't worry about this Carlotta thing. It probably just means that she'll get to be more obnoxious than usual. Populaire will probably pull through, no matter what, OK?"

Christine was not thoroughly convinced as she climbed into the lift after picking up her mail. A young man, probably around twenty one or so, smiled at her.

"What floor?"

"Five, please." He pressed five and then eight. Christine glanced at her watch. Erik would be home by now. She glanced through her letters briefly and the young man said,

"I'm Neil. Floor eight."

"Christine. Five."

"Lived here long?"

"Nearly a year. You?"

"Only a few weeks. What are the other residents like?" He asked. Christine suddenly realised that she didn't know.

"I'm not sure, I only know my neighbour on floor five."

"I haven't met my neighbour yet, he's been on holiday." Neil said cheerfully. "Hope he's OK to live with. What's yours like?"

"Well, we've been seeing each for a few months, so it can't be all bad." Christine said wryly as the doors opened at floor five. Neil grinned.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

The lift closed and Christine moved towards her apartment. Erik's door was open, as usual and she glanced inside. The radio was on but he wasn't in the living room. She went to her own apartment, took off her coat and put her bag down before going to find Erik. He was in the music room, pacing back and forward, occasionally going to a music stand to write a few notes down. Christine tapped lightly on the open door to let him know she was there. He turned and smiled.

"There you are."

"Sorry, I went for a coffee with the girls. We got some truly terrible news at work today."

"Oh?" He said, putting the music away.

"Carlotta's being made permanent. And powerful." Christine said glumly. Erik looked up in disbelief.

"What? How?"

They went into the kitchen and Christine explained the whole situation whilst Erik made tea. Cat was perched on the edge of the island surface. Christine stroked him as she finished the story.

"It's not been announced yet, but it won't be good news for anyone. But we can't refuse without putting the company in jeopardy."

"Couldn't you find a different backer?" Erik suggested.

"Guidacelli Tech provides our equipment cheaply. If we got another backer, it'd be more expensive for them because we'd have to start paying full prices and that's a hell of a lot of money." Christine sighed. "We'll just have to put up with it. If things start getting out of hand, we can talk to Firmin and try to sort something out."

She shook her head.

"Anyway, what about you? How was your day?"

"Very productive. The costumes are coming along nicely and so are the backdrops and props. It's just a matter of getting it all together. Eleanor and Carl are doing nicely though. Although she is finding _Think of Me_ quite unbearable."

"How? It's a lovely song!" Christine said, perplexed. Erik smiled slightly.

"Which is why I was wondering if you'd mind me recording you? She may understand it a little better if she hears someone else singing it."

"Well, no, of course I don't mind."

"Good. Because I brought home some recording equipment for this evening. Not particularly specialised tools, but they'll have to do." Erik said decisively. Christine laughed quietly and slipped off of her stool to hug him.

"I knew I could count on you to distract me from a bad day."

"I knew I was here for a reason." He said dryly.

**A/N: Hope everyone had a nice Valentine's. I actually ended up seeing Narnia instead, and My God, it is an awesome film. See it. Now.**

**Actually, review. Then see it. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to RachaelMNiner, for a simply lovely review. And the use of 'The Jewel Song' is inspired by a conversation on a forum about whether or not having lyrics in a story is a good thing and someone recommended that I try branching out of the ALW lyrics. I hope it works...  
**

**Next: I don't know how many of you know about this, but a certain phan forum called phansonline . net is having the Fourth Morbidity Contest, and voting is now open! Yours truly has entered a story, but since it's anonymous, I'm not telling. Ha. But there are some truly fantastic stories in this one and I urge you to go, read and vote. **

**www .** **angelfire . com / scary / darkphiccontest /**

**Rules are all on there. Go, now! And read!**

**Lotsa luv**

**Katie**


	31. In The Absence

**The Girl Next Door**

The dreams were getting worse.

Nightly Erik's slumber was disturbed by visions of Anna. Nightly he woke, gasping for breath and sweating, shaking controllably.

He tried to keep it secret. But Christine knew. How could she not? Every night when he woke, she pretended to sleep on. But it was getting far too serious. She decided she needed to talk to someone. Not Erik, not yet.

She chose Nadir. She called him during the day, when she was at work.

"Nadir, I need to talk to you. Is there somewhere that we can meet?" They arranged to meet in the bar of the Hawthorn after Erik had left work that afternoon.

Christine descended the steps to the bar. It was deserted, apart from a single man, sat at the bar. He looked around at her and smiled.

"Christine."

"Hello Nadir."

"Care for a drink?"

"Just a coke, thanks." Her new car had arrived and she didn't want to drink when she would be driving home. He fetched it for her and then said curiously,

"So, why all the secrecy? Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Maybe." She drank some of her soft drink and then turned on her seat to look him in the face. It was a kind face, friendly, one that could be trusted. "Nadir, I'm worried about Erik."

"You too?"

It took a moment for the words to register. She blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"I would guess that we two know him better than anyone else. And for some time now, something has been troubling him. I was hoping you could shed some light on the matter."

"I was hoping the same thing from you. All I know is that he's having dreams. Every single night, Nadir. He's barely sleeping at all."

Nadir considered her for a moment before sipping at his drink.

"Do you know what he dreams of?" He asked. Christine looked down at her glass, holding the icy drink in both hands.

"…Anna. He dreams of Anna." Nadir looked up sharply. "He hasn't told me anything. But he woke up once and said her name quietly, sort of despairingly."

Nadir looked at her, his forehead creased into a slight frown. Christine didn't look him in the eye. She kept her focus on her drink. After a moment Nadir said,

"Have you spoken to him?"

"God, no. I can't, Nadir. It's _Anna_… what could I possibly say?" Christine whispered. She sighed and looked at him. "That's why I needed to speak with you. I don't know what to do."

"And you think that I do?"

"You've known Erik for much longer than me." She pointed out. Nadir chuckled warmly.

"Ah, Christine, that is true. But what is also true is that I barely know Erik. I know him as a man and as a composer. But I do not know the Erik that you do. I know of what happened with Anna by the vaguest details only."

Christine was silent for a moment. Nadir smiled softly at her.

"I'm not being very useful, am I?"

"Not particularly." She agreed, smiling slightly. "I suppose I'll have to talk to him."

"I suppose so. But why don't you wait for a couple of days? See if they start to fade away and then confront him on Friday. At least that way you'll have the weekend to sort things out." Nadir suggested. Christine nodded and then glanced at him.

"_Hannibal_ is only three weeks away. Maybe it's the stress…"

"Entirely possible." Nadir agreed. "In any case, you're the only one who would be able to make him say what the problem is."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he trusts you." Nadir said simply, draining his glass. "Another drink?"

* * *

Erik sat at the piano testing out new tunes and Christine, cross-legged on the floor, was at the coffee table, sketching new designs. They were in Christine's apartment that evening and both worked silently, absorbed in their work. Now that the advertising campaign for _Hannibal_ had started, Christine was working on a poster for a gig. A new band was performing at the local stadium and had hired Populaire for the advertising on the huge concert. She sat, rearranging pieces on a mock-up poster before she used the computer.

There was a crash from the kitchen and they both jumped, Erik's hands slipping to create a nasty, jarring note.

"Cat!" Christine shouted. The tabby darted from the kitchen, yowling and dove under the piano, hissing. Christine peered into the kitchen. A bowl lay in pieces on the floor. Cat had clearly been sniffing around, hoping for food. Christine sighed and glanced over at the petrified animal.

"You're more trouble than you're worth." She told him firmly. Erik smiled faintly and held out his hand to Cat. He leapt into Erik's lap, seeking comfort as Christine went to sweep up the pieces.

When she returned, she returned to her spot on the floor, leaning against the sofa and sighed heavily. Erik glanced at her.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just… I don't know. I feel a little tired." She said, smiling. "I really don't feel like going to London on Saturday. Or to Carlotta's party."

"You said that Firmin said to just show your face. Go for an hour and then leave." Erik suggested and she eyed him.

"Hey, don't think you're getting out of it. You're coming with me."

"Why must we both suffer?" He pointed out and Christine laughed.

"Don't even try, Erik. You're coming."

"Well, I tried."

He rose from the piano and went to sit on the sofa. She rested her head against his knee and closed her eyes. He caressed her hair softly and she said quietly,

"I wish we could go away for a while. Maybe just to Paris, or something. But everything's so busy…"

"Afterwards. Once _Hannibal_ is running properly, we could go for a weekend." Erik suggested. She smiled.

"That sounds nice." She murmured, closing her eyes again.

* * *

Eleanor looked at the CD in surprise as she sat in her dressing room the next day, Friday.

"What is it?" She demanded. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"It is a recording of _Think of Me_. Exactly the way it should be sung."

"From where? I thought this was the first performance of _Hannibal_."

"It is. This is a recording of the person I originally wrote the song for. Therefore, she understands perfectly the nature of the song. Listen to it and learn it." Erik said.

He turned and left the room. Eleanor leapt up and raced after him as he entered the theatre.

"Wait just one minute, Mr Destler! This was sung by… by some unknown and you are saying that she sings it better than I do?"

"That is not difficult, Eleanor, you are incapable of that song." He said. Eleanor's jaw dropped in horrified fury. Erik glanced at Cassandra, one of the stagehands.

"Go and play this recording." He took the CD from Eleanor and tossed it at her. Cassandra disappeared and Eleanor fumed.

"Mr Destler, this is thoroughly insulting!"

"Eleanor, just _listen_. You and I both know that this song is beyond you at this point. Just listen and copy what she does." Erik said in a final tone. Eleanor folded her arms and Cassandra's voice echoed around the room from the sound box microphone.

"_Ready Mr Destler_?"

He nodded and the music began, the light, familiar piano music filling the room. Everyone stopped to listen as Christine's voice began to ring out, clear and sweet. Erik settled into a chair, listening in pleasure to the tone. The quality of the recording had been better than he had hoped. Eleanor was stood with a pout on her beautiful face, but Carl and the other performers were listening in interest to this unknown singer.

Nadir sat down beside Erik, and glanced at him, asking with his eyes '_who?_'. But Erik didn't reply. He was watching Eleanor. The song finished and everyone began to chatter once again. Erik stood and went to his leading lady.

"Well?" He said. Eleanor huffed and folded her arms across her chest.

"I… oh!" She snatched the CD from the returning Cassandra and stormed away to her dressing room. Erik smirked and looked at a grinning Carl.

"I believe I won."

"Apparently so. Who was that, Mr Destler? And why isn't she here instead of charming Prima Donna?" Carl smiled cheekily. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"She is otherwise occupied."

"Who is it, Erik?" Nadir murmured, joining him. Erik glanced at his friend.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because she's excellent! She could easily outdo Eleanor. Where did you find her?" Realisation struck and Nadir gaped. "Not… not Christine?"

"If you've nothing helpful to add, get out of the way."

"I had no idea she could sing like that!" Nadir said, utterly amazed. "She's… well, she's fantastic. She could be a star, Erik!"

Erik looked at him flatly.

"Haven't you got some work to be getting on with instead of preventing me from doing mine?" He said. Nadir looked at him irritably and turned to go to his office.

* * *

"She has her own _office_?" Christine said in disbelief. Meg nodded.

"I know. It's ghastly. Just imagine the size that her ego is going to be."

"For crying out loud! This is getting beyond ridiculous." Christine said angrily, waiting for the printer to dispense her work. Meg shrugged.

"What can you do?"

"Nothing. And that's what I hate most." Christine replied. Meg grinned.

"You're just jealous 'cos her office is bigger than yours."

"What? It's bigger than _mine_?" Christine said, turning on her. Meg laughed and patted her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Chrissie. That just means she won't have to hang around and annoy us instead."

Christine had to admit that this was a plus to the whole god-awful situation. She was going to reply but Sorelli appeared next to them, looking thoroughly self-satisfied.

"I've finally finished that report. Firmin is going to love me!"

"Especially since it was due a week ago." Meg commented lightly. Sorelli pulled a face and then smirked at Christine as she yawned.

"Erik keeping you up?"

"You could say that." Christine said dryly, taking her work and heading back to her office. She saw Carlotta on the way, talking to Firmin in a loud, official voice.

"I just don't see why the graphics department can't merge with the media department. They work so closely anyway, and it would be far more viable from a financial point of view."

"Carlotta, if we did that it would mean having to either transfer people, demoting or letting them go. The graphics department functions brilliantly as a solo unit the media works closely with every other department."

"In my personal opinion, Richard, there are a few people in graphics who could do with a little demotion. Or more." Carlotta said coolly, eyeing Jammes, who was talking with Josh a little way off. Christine stopped in her tracks and Carlotta caught her eye. She smirked briefly before turning to go back to her new office.

Christine caught Firmin's arm.

"Richard, is she looking to cut people?" She demanded in a whisper. Firmin sighed.

"Christine-"

"Is she?"

"…There may be cutbacks." He admitted. Christine released his arm in consternation.

"I thought making her an employee was going to _help_ Populaire!"

"It will. There are just a few glitches-"

"Glitches? Richard, she's talking about firing people! We're a small enough company as it is!"

"Christine, your job is secure." Firmin said quietly. "No matter what happens, you are a secured employee."

"But what about Jammes?" Christine hissed. The look on Firmin's face was answer enough. Christine took a step back and then clenched her jaw.

"If she gets rid of Jammes, I'm going too."

"Christine-"

"She has worked incredibly hard since she got here! You were at her review, she's a bloody miracle! If Carlotta wants her out, I'm going with her because I don't want to work somewhere where a spoiled bitch like her is going to be calling all the shots on something she knows nothing about!" Christine said furiously before storming back to her office. Firmin watched her go with a defeated expression.

* * *

Christine didn't tell anyone about what had happened at work that day. When she got home, Erik was still at the theatre. Christine went to her post box and pulled out her mail. She _really_ didn't want to travel to London the next day. And she especially didn't want to go to Carlotta's birthday.

Cat meowed indignantly at his dawdling owner. Christine scowled down at him.

"Oh, _meow_ yourself!" She snapped. Cat gave her a resentful look and stalked towards the lift. Christine sighed and followed, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

Once he had a bowl of milk, he seemed somewhat pacified. Christine sat at the computer, working without even thinking about it, it was merely something to keep her busy until Erik got home. Now was the time to confront him. Well, if she were to be perfectly honest, Christine would rather not confront him at all. But this couldn't go on. Erik was looking worse by the day. She was afraid, yes actually _afraid_, of what would happen if he carried on like this.

Erik arrived just over half an hour later. Christine didn't call out to him. She wanted to finish the design before she went to see him. Within a couple of minutes she was done. She saved the document and ventured out. Erik was in her kitchen, preparing them both tea. He smiled as she appeared.

"You seemed busy. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Just finishing a design." She replied, leaning against a doorframe.

"How was your day?"

"Absolutely appalling."

"Oh? What happened?" He said, pouring hot water into the teapot. Christine laughed humourlessly.

"Carlotta. What else? She's looking to make a few firings, just to make herself seem important and Jammes looks to be the top of her list."

"Jammes? Why her?"

"She can't touch me. Firmin would never allow it, plus there's no one with enough experience to take over from me. Carlotta knows that Jammes is an important person to me and that I like her. It's the nearest strike she can make."

Erik shook his head disgustedly and Christine sighed.

"Nothings final yet, though. I'll just have to see how things pan out." She said, rubbing the back of her neck. It was aching from too long sat in front of the computer that day. "What about you? How was your day?"

"Not too bad. Eleanor was not impressed at being told how to sing _Think of Me_." Erik smirked at the memory. "But she'll have to get used to it."

He rubbed his eyes, yawning heavily. It seemed an opportune moment to mention the dreams and Christine was in no mood to play around beforehand.

"Erik, can I talk to you about something?" She said, fingers twisting nervously together. Erik looked at her, rather bemused as he took the milk from the refrigerator.

"Of course. What about?"

"Your dreams." She said simply. Erik lowered the milk bottle and looked at her. She swallowed hard and kept their eye contact, determined now.

"How did you…?"

"You wake up every night, Erik. You've never been such a restless sleeper, how could I _not_ know?" She said quietly.

Erik couldn't look at her. Christine moved forward but kept the distance between them.

"It's Anna, isn't it? That's what you dream about."

"I don't wish to discuss this, Christine." He said, in an almost inaudible tone, his gaze on the cups before him. She frowned slightly.

"Erik… this is me. We've told each other everything. Why can't you tell me about this?"

"Christine…" He began and then stopped. After a moment he turned to her, his expression cool. "I said that I did not wish to discuss the matter."

"But-"

He put a hand down heavily on the counter. Not a violent gesture, but a finalising one. The conversation was over. Christine ran a hand through her hair, knowing when she was defeated.

"Fine, Erik." She said quietly. "Your choice. I'm going to do some work."

She turned and was gone. Erik stared at the space that she had occupied only moments before and then bowed his head, feeling utterly deserted.

The evening was a warm one, but the air apartment 5a was cool. Eventually Christine stood.

"I'm going to bed. I've got to be up early for the drive to London. I'll be back in time for the party." She said calmly, moving towards the bedroom. Cat followed her. Erik waited for a few minutes before going inside. Christine was tugging on a nightshirt. Erik undressed down to his underwear and then climbed into bed beside her, turning off the bedside lamp. Christine was lying with her back to him. Clearly she knew how to hold a grudge.

Erik paused and then put a hand on her arm that lay above the covers. She didn't move away. He sighed gently and then lay beside her, one arm over her. After a few moments she relaxed and whispered a goodnight. Erik returned the acknowledgement and was silent for a while. And then he whispered,

"I'm sorry."

But she was already asleep.

* * *

Christine rose early the day. She left Erik sleeping. No need to take away his lie-in, just because she had to go. Besides, he needed the sleep, having had yet another nightmare. This time he had gotten out of bed afterwards and gone to the bathroom. She had heard a tap running and then he returned. Christine hadn't let him know she was awake. He might have known anyway.

With a stack of CD's to keep her from boredom in the three hour drive, she began the tiresome journey to the capital. The course started at ten-thirty that morning and she didn't want to be late, even if wouldn't be the most thrilling event in her life.

Erik, in the mean time, woke whilst Christine was still travelling. He went into the living room, a lively Cat dancing around his feet. There was a note for him on the coffee table.

**Erik,**

**I didn't want to wake you, so I slipped out early. Get plenty of rest and rejuvenate yourself. We'll need all the energy we can get for tonight. I should be back in time for the party (oh joy!) but I'll call ahead if I get stuck in traffic.**

**Love**

**Christine**

He smiled slightly and then rubbed his face. He was still exhausted, in spite of the few hours of sleep he had managed to get. He glanced at the time and then crossed to his apartment to dress. Cat followed in interest as he went to his bedroom. After a quick shower, a shave and dressing Erik straightened his mask and steadied himself for what he was about to do. The thing he had been putting off since the nightmares had begun.

He went to the wardrobe in his bedroom. Near the feet were two drawers. One contained some spare sheet music and ink, as well as folders for his music. Erik went to the second drawer, kneeling on the floor, ignoring Cat, who was prowling nearby, wondering exactly what had captured Erik's interest so much that he had neglected to notice that it was time for his morning milk.

Erik slid the drawer open carefully. The inside was a mess of photographs, papers, objects and trinkets. He stared at them for a moment and then took out one of the photographs. Anna smiled up at him, her lovely face flushed and laughing, the essence of life and vivaciousness. Her handwriting covered pieces of paper, the scent of her perfume rose from the folded scarf on one side of the drawer and the light glinted from the simple jewellery that was scattered over the other items. And, somewhere near the back of the drawer, was a small velvet box that contained what should have been her wedding ring.

Erik touched the items softly, as though they were the most fragile and valuable possessions in the world. And then he buried his face in his hands as what remained of his strength deserted him and left him kneeling on the floor, torn completely in two.

**A/N: I hope this chapter pleases. I don't know why, but I feel like my last few chapters just haven't been up to standard. I think this one catches up a bit, but I don't know… blah. I feel blah.**

**Anyway, please leave a review and cheer a blah girl up. Especially since I'm back at school on Monday. Blah indeed. **

**Love**

**Katie**


	32. My Lover

**The Girl Next Door**

Carlotta's party began at 8 pm. At 7:25 Christine fell through her front door. Erik heard her through his ajar door and came to investigate.

"The rush hour traffic in London was a _nightmare_." She said, as he found her in the bedroom, hastily pulling a dress from the wardrobe. "I still need to shower and dress and do my make-up and a thousand other things before we go. God, I don't even WANT to go…"

"It won't be for too long." Erik reminded her. She smiled, tying her hair up into a bun to keep it out of the way.

"I'm going to take a quick shower. Why don't you go and get dressed? I got her a bottle of wine on the way back. Not good wine, but at least we'll have something."

She disappeared into the bathroom and Erik smiled slightly.

* * *

The party was being held in an enormous room at an expensive hotel, _The Pinewood Hotel_. Christine and Erik were pointed to the right place and were greeted by the sight of what looked like nearly three hundred people milling around whilst classical music emanated from a string quartet. Christine placed the wine on the gifts table, which was straining under the weight of the many presents and looked at Erik.

"Well… we're here. How long before we can leave?" Before Erik had time to reply, Sorelli and Nadir joined them.

"How was your course?" Sorelli asked.

"Quite interesting, actually. I've got a few new ideas to put forward to Firmin on Monday." Christine said. They began to discuss the ideas and Nadir looked to Erik.

"You were dragged along as well?"

"Don't be so pessimistic, Nadir." Sorelli scolded him. Then she remembered and turned excitedly back to Christine. "I found out what it is!"

"Tell me!" Christine smiled. Sorelli beamed.

"It's a boy! Isn't that great? I've been trying to think up names but… it just seems so much more real now. It's a _boy_."

She looked down at her bump, grinning. Christine smiled and touched the bump.

"You are going to be such a great mum, Sorelli."

"I know." She said smugly. Nadir lifted his eyes to the heavens and Erik fought back a smirk. Christine looked around.

"Any sign of the birthday girl, yet?"

"No. Not that we could find her in this crowd anyway." Sorelli pointed out. "Look for a completely over the top outfit and an obnoxiously loud voice."

"We can't all be as well dressed as you." Christine muttered, glancing at Sorelli's clothing. She was wearing a bright blue dress that fell gracefully over her protruding stomach. Sorelli smiled sweetly.

"You look nice, Christine."

"I had fifteen minutes to get ready." Christine complained. "You're probably spent all day planning your outfit!"

"Try all week." Nadir interjected. Sorelli shrugged carelessly, flipping a lock of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. Christine smiled and looked around. She recognised a few people from the office among the many strangers.

"Who _are_ all of these people?"

"Probably business acquaintances of the Guidacelli's." Nadir commented. "This whole party is probably nothing more than an excuse to get everyone in one place, do a little positive image management for Guidacelli Tech."

"That's a very cynical way of looking at it." Said an amused voice. "Carlotta has the best interests of GT at heart. Plus she has many friends from different places."

They all turned to look at the speaker. She was a proud-looking woman, with greying blonde hair and sharply good-looking features.

"How do you know Carlotta?" She said, with a small smile.

"We're at Populaire Advertising with her." Sorelli said, signalling at Christine and herself.

"Oh, the advertising company? Yes, she was very pleased with her promotion." The woman said, her accent slightly tinted with some dialect that Christine didn't recognise.

"Well, we don't talk to her that much." Sorelli put in. "She's usually keeping herself busy with Richard or someone."

"I'm glad she's made so many friends at Populaire Advertising. She was so glad to be made a full time member of staff." The woman said, her wine glass held gracefully in one hand. "Carlotta can be rather overachieving at times. But this is very good for her."

"She really likes working there?" Sorelli asked.

"Oh, yes. She thinks the people there are absolutely charming. Apparently there's just one person she doesn't get on with too well, but it hasn't stopped her enthusiasm for the job."

Christine listened, rather interested. Sorelli got that smile on her face that meant that she wanted to stir things up a little.

"Really? Who is it that she doesn't get on with?"

"I don't really remember her name. Cassie, or Corinne, or something like that. A _nightmare_ to work with, apparently. But since she's been there for longer than Carlotta, there's probably no chance of getting rid of her. It seems she isn't very popular with other members of staff either. But Carlotta's never been one to let one little person keep her down."

Erik looked at Christine. Her cheeks had flushed and she looked ready to explode. Sorelli seemed to sense this as well. The woman looked around at them, aware of the sudden uncomfortable atmosphere. Christine cleared her throat.

"Well, I think I need to pay a little visit to the ladies."

"I'll come with you." Sorelli said but Christine held up a hand.

"No, no, I'm fine."

"At least let me get your names first, I'm so pleased to meet Carlotta's friends." The woman smiled.

"Sorelli Tindra." Sorelli said, shaking her hand. The women looked to Christine.

"Christine Daae. Not Cassie _or_ Corinne. Excuse me." Christine said quietly, turning and disappearing into the crowd. The woman stared after her for a moment and then seemed to realise what had happened.

"Mother, there you are!"

Carlotta appeared beside them, smiling amiably.

"Sorelli, so glad you could come! And Mr Khan as well, it's nice to see you again." She saw Erik and her smile instantly widened. "Mr Destler… I wasn't expecting you. You came with Mr Khan?"

"Actually I came with Christine. Sorelli, please could you go and make sure she's alright?"

"Sure, Erik."

She vanished into the hive of people. Carlotta blinked after her and then turned to her mother.

"What just happened?"

* * *

Sorelli found Christine in the restroom, leaning against one of the surfaces with a despondent expression on her features.

"Chris?"

She looked up and then sighed quietly.

"I wasn't exactly expecting a fabulous evening. I definitely didn't expect to hear from some random woman that I'm not popular at the office and I'm a nightmare to work with."

"OK, let's get one thing straight. That random woman is Carlotta's mother. How reliable is her opinion or information? Secondly, you are _not_ a nightmare to work with. You are fantastic at your job and almost everyone in the office thinks you're lovely." Sorelli said firmly. She flicked Christine's chin, forcing her to lift her head. "Alright? Carlotta Guidacelli is a spoiled brat. You are a wonderful person and frankly, I'd rather be friends with you than her. The same goes for most of the people at the office; do you know how many of them can't stand her? I mean, none of them have got this grudge match going with her that you have. But she's definitely not the little-miss-popular she's making herself out to be."

Christine didn't reply. Sorelli pulled her into as tight a hug as her bump would allow. She patted Christine's hair.

"C'mon, Chrissie. Let's just get out of here. We'll find the guys, give Meg a call and go to the pub, or something."

"Thanks Sorelli." Christine mumbled. Sorelli smiled.

"No problem. Let's go and find Erik and Nadir."

After checking their reflections (the absolute last thing that Christine wanted was to go out into the room looking a mess) the two women emerged from the bathroom. Erik and Nadir were waiting where they had left them. Erik instantly moved towards Christine but she held up a hand.

"I'm fine. Let's just go and get a drink somewhere."

"We can go to the Hawthorn bar; it's not too far from here." Nadir said. Sorelli nodded and Christine suddenly groaned.

"I don't believe it; I've left my bag in the toilets. I'll just run back and get it."

Her bag was sat unobtrusively on the surface next to the sink. Christine picked it up, putting the strap over her shoulder and left the restroom.

"Christine?" She glanced over her shoulder and saw Raoul, holding a glass and smiling. He was with a man several years older than Raoul, with blonde hair and small moustache.

"Raoul, Philippe." She offered a small smile. Philippe smiled politely.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since… well, in quite a while."

"I'm fine. Just about to leave."

"It's only just started." Raoul pointed out. Christine lifted an eyebrow.

"I've already been insulted by Carlotta's mother and to be frank, I didn't even want to come in the first place. I'm going for a drink with some friends and then going home for an early night. I've just travelled back from London."

"Raoul mentioned that he saw you at the Hawthorn Masquerade." Philippe said. Christine nodded.

"Yes, Erik invited me."

"Erik?"

His query was answered as the man in question appeared at Christine's side. He took in the two men and then turned to Christine.

"Sorelli found Meg. They're just leaving."

"Alright. It was nice to see you again, Philippe."

"Philippe de Chagny." He said, offering Erik his hand. "I don't believe we've met?" Erik shook his hand briefly.

"Erik Destler."

"Destler… oh, the composer for the Hawthorn?"

"Indeed. If you'd excuse us…"

He and Christine walked away. Erik's hand was on the small of Christine's back in a rather protective gesture. She glanced up at him and then turned her gaze back to the doors, a slight smile on her face.

Call her romantic, but she rather liked his protective streak.

* * *

"Well, we survived a good fifteen minutes." Sorelli said, lifting her glass. Meg snorted.

"I didn't even get through the front door. She found me in the car park." She added to Christine. Christine grinned and had some of her drink. There were few people in the bar. Two plays were currently showing in the theatre above, so they would not be disturbed until the interval. Erik and Nadir were discussing _Hannibal_.

"It opens in three weeks and you haven't decided upon any plans for the opening night." Nadir said sternly. "Erik, you must decide on arrangements."

"What arrangements? People come in, they watch the opera, they leave."

"Don't be so ridiculous. There is the press to organise, there is the after party to consider and a thousand other things to do. Why can't you simply take an interest in them?"

"Because I'm _not_ interested, as well you know. I simply provide the music. It's your job to manage those events. Which, by the way, is why you are called the 'manager'."

"It wouldn't kill you to lend a hand." Nadir muttered. Sorelli patted his arm sympathetically.

"Don't upset him, Erik, he's very sensitive."

"I am not." Nadir said, irritated.

Christine smiled at their repartee and asked,

"How is the opera going? Is everything coming together now?"

"Just about. Elena has improved greatly since listening to you sing _Think of Me_." Nadir said, giving her a sly look. She blinked at him and looked quickly to Erik, who held up a hand,

"I didn't tell him."

"Erik doesn't know many people and I managed to guess. You do have a lovely voice."

"It's out of practise." Christine said quickly. "If Erik wasn't helping me-"

"How comes we never get to hear you sing?" Meg demanded. Christine sat back in her chair.

"I'd love to have this conversation but I'm exhausted and I really want to go home and sleep for the entire weekend."

She and Erik collected their things and bade their friend goodnight. On the way back to Gaston Place, Christine smiled softly at him.

"Did you have a good day?"

"I just wrote some music. It was relaxing." It wasn't completely a lie. He _had_ written some music. But nothing could relax him. Christine closed her eyes for a few moments and Erik wondered if she had fallen asleep. But she spoke again.

"I don't know what I'm going to do if Carlotta gets any worse."

"What do you mean?"

"…I threatened to quit if Carlotta gets rid of Jammes." She murmured. Erik looked around at her, astonished.

"Christine-"

"I don't know if Firmin will let her. But if she sets her mind to it, she can just bend him around her little finger." Christine said. "And if things get worse, I can't stay there. It just wouldn't be possible."

"Something will turn up." Erik said. "Things won't get that bad."

"I hope you're right, Erik." She whispered, looking out of the window at the black sky. Clouds were covering the stars, with the threat of rainfall at any moment.

* * *

_Anna knelt beside the broken shards of the picture she had so lovingly painted. Her hurt eyes met Erik's._

"_Does it hurt you that much to have it there?"_

"_Anna, stop…" He tried to say the words louder but he could barely hear them himself. She stood, fragments of glass slicing into her hands. The blood dripped onto the carpet and she looked at him. He stared back and she reached out one blood-soaked hand._

"_Do you want this?" There shouldn't be that much blood, there shouldn't…_

_In her palm lay Christine's silver cross, smeared with red life and glinting cruelly._

_

* * *

_

Erik stared at the ceiling, the image of the blood pouring from Anna's hands still fresh in his mind. He licked his dry lips and sat up. His throat was taut and desiccated, although sweat was fresh upon his brow.

He reached for the water on his bedside table and drained the glass before glancing at Christine. She had not woken with him this time. She slept peacefully on, her face the essence of sweet relaxation. The silver cross was on the bedside table, the chain pooled beneath the cross in a mesh of links. Erik climbed from the bed, moving silently. Cat, who was curled up at the foot of the bed, glanced lazily at him before going back to sleep. Erik moved past the creature to stand by the wardrobe. The temptation to open the drawer again was so strong…

Erik leant on the wardrobe door, with his back to the bed as he fought the urge. Opening that drawer would not make things better. It would neither stop the nightmares, nor bring Anna back.

And at that moment, he was torn between which it was that he most desired.

He lowered himself to one knee and reached for the handle of the drawer, starting to pull it open. And then stopped, his hands trembling although the night was warm.

_Christine…_

He could not do this. Not with Christine sleeping mere feet from where he knelt. He forced himself to stand and turned to see Christine stirring. She let out a sleepy sigh, caught sight of Erik standing and sat up.

"Erik? What's wrong?"

"…I was just opening the window. It's too warm." Erik said quietly. He turned and slowly pushed the window open. Christine lay back down, yawning. Erik stood for a moment and then returned to the bed. Christine watched him for a moment and then kissed his cheek gently. He smiled slightly and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes his breathing evened out. Christine watched him sleeping for a moment and then turned her eyes as away. He must have had another nightmare. This was getting ridiculous. But if he wouldn't _talk _to her about them…

She reached across him for the water glass, only to find it empty. He must have drunk it already. They really did need to get two tables in here. Christine picked up the glass and climbed out of bed with thoughts of going to the kitchen to refill it. The curtain waved slowly in the cool breeze from the newly-opened window. Christine glanced at it and then her eyes went to the drawer that was pulled out slightly. She looked at it curiously. This was where Erik has been standing, hadn't it? Why was that drawer open if he was opening the window?

Casting an almost guilty glance towards the sleeping figure in the bed, Christine bent down to examine the drawer. She slid it open carefully.

The contents were perfectly still but they seemed to jump out at her. Christine's heart clenched painfully as she recognised the lovely face that filled every photograph. Some forgotten scent rose from the objects. Christine picked up one of the photographs and looked sadly at the woman it showed. She smiled so freely, so happily, with no idea of the pain that her death would cause the man in the bed.

Christine's eyes went to the black jewellery box. She didn't want to open it. She knew what she would find inside.

She placed the picture back into the drawer and closed it slowly, tears prickling at her eyes as the realisation of what Erik was suffering hit her.

God, she loved him. She loved him so much it hurt her inside. She wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and forget the drawer, forget what was inside, forget this whole night. She wanted to go back to Erik and lie in his arms and pretend that this had never happened. That Erik hadn't been looking through this drawer, smelling Anna's scent, seeing Anna's face and thinking about her.

But she couldn't. She looked over at Erik again and wrapped her arms around herself tightly as she fought back the tears. Erik slept on. After a few minutes, struggling to breathe, Christine stood and slipped from the room, glass still sat on the floor and curtain swaying in the night air.

* * *

_Did I disappoint you?_

_Or let you down?_

_Should I be feeling guilty?_

_Or let the judges frown?_

_Because I saw the end_

_Before we'd begun_

_Yes, I saw you were blinded_

_And I knew I had won_

The unfamiliar lyrics reached Erik's ears as he fought through the hazy half-consciousness between awake and asleep. He glanced at the clock radio and then beside him as the bittersweet music softly filled the room. But Christine was not there. He rose, pulling on a dressing gown. As he did so his eyes fell upon the glass that lay on the floor beside the drawer. Beside _that_ drawer.

He had to find her. Had to explain…

The music followed him out, the words penetrating his skull. She was not in his apartment. He crossed the hallway and pushed open her door. Cat leapt from the sofa to greet him but Erik moved past him to the bedroom, where he heard movement and the radio, fixed to the same station as his own, the same unknown song playing.

_I've kissed your lips _

_And held your head_

_Shared your dreams_

_And shared your bed_

What he saw was not what he could have ever expected. A suitcase lay open on Christine's bed, clothes folded neatly inside. She turned, clasping a shirt in her hands and saw him. Her face turned to an expression of sorrow and resignation. Erik felt a lump rise to his throat.

"Christine…"

_Goodbye my lover_

_Goodbye my friend _

_You have been the one_

_You have been the one for me_

She turned and put the shirt into the suitcase, her movements slow but painfully certain. Erik took a step forward.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving."

"…Where?"

"To Sorelli's." She said softly, opening a drawer and lifting underwear from it. Erik watched her and swallowed hard.

"Don't go." He whispered. It wasn't an order, it was a plea. Begging her. Christine clenched her jaw to stop herself from sobbing.

"I have to." She replied tightly.

Erik steeled himself to ask the question that was sending shooting pains into his heart.

"Will you come back?" She had her back to him so he couldn't see her expression. Which may have been a good thing, as it would have doubtless shattered his heart there and then. She didn't reply for a moment before saying,

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On you."

_I've seen you cry_

_I've seen you smile_

_I've watched you sleeping for a while_

_I'd be the father of your child_

_I'd spend a lifetime with you_

Finally, she turned to look at him. Erik fought back bitter tears at the sight of her lovely face, contorted into an expression of such sorrow.

"You have a choice to make, Erik. And you can't make it with me here."

"Christine-"

"You can't have us both." She said softly. "You can't hold me at night, make love to me, say the things you say and still be always thinking of her, wondering what life would have been like if it were her with you instead of me."

"I-"

"Don't deny it, Erik." He couldn't. She knew him too well. She bit her lip and said, "I know that you loved her. I understand that, it's fine. But I don't know if you still do and if you do, how much. I don't want you to forget about her completely, that's just not fair. But… but I need you to need me. Only me. I don't want to love you if you only want to love her."

_I know your fears_

_And you know mine_

_We've had our doubts _

_But now we're fine_

_And I love you_

_I swear that's true_

_I cannot live without you_

She closed her suitcase and pulled on her coat. Erik watched her and then reached out an arm to touch her hair. She was still for a second before leaning out of his reach to lift her suitcase, her silken strands leaving his fingers. Christine walked past, grasping the suitcase in both hands. Cat was waiting outside the bedroom and looked curiously at the suitcase. Christine glanced down at him and then back at Erik. He was still watching her.

_Goodbye my lover_

_Goodbye my friend _

_You have been the one_

_You have been the one for me_

"When you decide… tell me. On the phone, or come and see me at work. One way or the other, let me know." She said. Erik didn't reply. He was just watching her with an expression of utmost misery. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. She put down the suitcase and crossed to him. He didn't move, just watched her.

Christine hesitated and then pressed her lips softly to his. His eyes were squeezed shut, as though fighting an inner demon. Christine traced his mouth with her finger before whispering in a voice that was tight with pain,

"Thank you…. for everything that you gave me." She let out a shuddering breath as the tears came back. "You made me happy."

_And I still hold your hand in mine_

_In mine when I'm asleep_

_And I will bear my soul in time_

_When I'm kneeling at your feet_

Erik opened his eyes. She was by the door, suitcase in hand and head bowed so her face was covered by dark curls.

"Don't leave me." The words escaped him before he could stop them. She lifted her face and he saw that the tears she had fought so hard, so bravely, had defeated her and were running like pearls down her face.

For a brief moment, the shortest shining moment in the world, he thought that she would stay. That she would drop her suitcase and run back, promising never to leave him again. That they were in a beautiful story, where happily ever after really existed.

But, of course, she didn't. She spoke two words and then left, walking away with the tears still shining on her face, suitcase in one hand and Cat held in her other arm.

"Goodbye, Erik."

The door closed and she was gone. Erik felt a strange sensation and realised that the tears had escaped and were flooding down, under his mask. He sank down onto the edge of one of the chairs, holding his head in his hands as the tears fell, as he mourned in a way he had not done since a cold day when he had watched his beloved Anna being lowered into the ground.

_Goodbye my lover_

_Goodbye my friend _

_You have been the one_

_You have been the one for me_

**A/N: The song is 'Goodbye My Lover' by James Blunt. As I mentioned before, we had a debate on a forum about using song lyrics in stories but I was determined on this one. When I'm writing something as emotional as this, music is a big inspiration and I'm hoping that when you read it, you can picture it in your mind. And if there's a song playing to enhance the mood, I'm hoping that it helps. Let me know what you think!**

**And sorry for all the angst. I know Christine's actions seem rash but the explanation for that will be next chapter.**

**Love**

**Katie**


	33. An Unexpected Source

**The Girl Next Door**

The drive to Sorelli's, usually twenty minutes or so, took a great deal longer. The reason for this was that Christine had gone no further than a few streets before her vision, so blurred with tears, forced her to pull over. She sat behind the wheel, breathing ragged and tears falling unstoppably. A few small sobs escaped but once she was able, Christine continued to drive, knowing that if she dawdled for too long she would end up turning back.

Sorelli was sitting on the porch outside her house, talking with Meg when Christine drew up in the car. They both went down to the curb. Sorelli took Cat indoors and Meg seized Christine's things as Christine locked the car door and turned to her friends. Within moments they were taking her inside, assuring her that everything would be alright and that they'd help her.

They went into the kitchen and Meg sat down with her as Sorelli began to make tea. Christine bit down on her quivering lower lip.

"Meg… I don't know what to do."

"You've done the right thing. I assume, since I don't actually know what's going on." Meg said, patting her hand. Christine swallowed hard.

"I just _left_ him there. After everything, I just left him…" Tears threatened again and she put her head in her hands. Sorelli sat with them as the kettle boiled.

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" she asked. "I mean, if it's private, give us a censored version."

Christine didn't speak for a moment and then said,

"There's someone else."

"What? Who?"

"…His fiancée." Christine whispered. She looked up, eyes red and puffy from weeping. "She died almost seven years ago, and Erik found out that she had been pregnant with his child. But he's been… been having dreams about her. And last night I found him looking at pictures of her, going through her things."

She moistened her lips and shook her head slowly.

"He can't let go. I just want to be with him so badly but I can't, because I don't know if he's thinking about me or her, or if he even wants me at all." It was no good. She started to cry again, covering her face with her hands. Meg hugged her tightly as Sorelli poured hot water into the teapot.

"What did you say to him?" Meg asked.

"I-I told him that… that he had to decide one way or the other. That he couldn't have both of us. And that I had to leave because he couldn't decide with me there."

_Don't leave me._

The words rang through her skull, Erik's pained, sorrowed tone inflicting more pain on her than if she had been beaten bloody. Christine's chest tightened and she gasped for air between sobs. Meg looked to be on the verge of tears herself as she held her. Sorelli put mugs of tea down in front of them, putting milk no the floor for Cat, who was sniffing interestedly at the floor.

"Christine, you did the right thing. Erik clearly has a few things to work out and if you're with him day and night, he won't be able to think straight. You just need some time apart." Sorelli said firmly. "She's right. It took a lot of bravery for you to walk away like that." Meg assured her.

And although she appreciated them, their words were of little comfort to Christine.

* * *

Meg stayed until quite late in the evening. They spent the day trying to take Christine's mind off her debacle, with various videos, conversations, jokes and frequent cups of tea. Once Meg had gone, Christine helped Sorelli clear away their plates, saying,

"Thanks for letting me stay, Sorelli."

"Not a problem, sweetie. Besides, you'll be paying for coming here." She grinned. "We've got a bedroom to decorate for this little guy." She patted her protruding stomach cheerfully. Christine smiled weakly.

"Oh… yay."

"I thought you might be pleased."

Christine went up to her room to sort her things out. She'd brought a week's worth of clothes. If it looked like she was going to be here for any longer she would go home during lunch. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she looked around the strange room. Cat strolled in and jumped into her lap, perfectly at ease. Her head was aching and she just wanted to sleep for a few days. But tomorrow was Monday. Which meant work. Which meant Carlotta.

It was almost enough to make her start crying again.

* * *

"Oh, the party was just _fabulous_! It was such a success, everyone told me so." Carlotta was announcing as Sorelli and Christine got to work the next morning. Meg joined them rolling her eyes.

"Thank God, you're here. All she's talked about for the last ten minutes is that bloody party!"

"You poor tortured soul." Christine said in mock sympathy, patting her on the shoulder. Sorelli grinned and Christine went off to her office.

She managed to spend the morning avoiding everyone. But at lunch time she was forced to venture out in search of food and caffeine. As she filled a cup from the coffee machine, Firmin stopped to talk to her.

"Christine, might I have a word about the _Hannibal_ opening night? Mr Khan wants us to some publicity for the event."

"Of course."

"Where have you been all morning?" Meg said, marching up to her. "I haven't seen you at all! I wanted to make sure you were OK."

"Why wouldn't she be?" Firmin asked. Christine cleared her throat and looked at him with a calm face.

"Erik and I have separated. I'm staying with Sorelli for the time being. And, just so you know, this isn't going to affect my work. I'll still be working on the Hawthorn Projects. Excuse me, I need to go to the shop and get some lunch."

She picked up her Styrofoam cup and vanished. Meg winced.

"Wow. That was… Is this one of those moments where someone should tell me to shut my mouth?"

"It is."

"OK."

* * *

Erik stared into the centre of the crystal paperweight that he held in his hand. He was sat in his office, where he had been all day, not working but just thinking. There was a small sphere of blue gemstone in the centre of the paperweight, refracting the light through the rest of the object. The weight of it in his hand was strangely comforting, the smooth cool surface fitting perfectly into his palm. He moved it slightly so the light changed direction through the centre.

There was a knock at the door and Nadir entered without waiting for an answer.

"Erik, why weren't you in the rehearsal this morning?" He demanded. "We have very little time left before the opening night." Erik didn't reply. His jade eyes were still fixed on the crystal in his fingers. Nadir stared at him, closed the door and sat opposite him.

"Well? What's wrong?"

Erik looked at him for a mere moment before returning his gaze to the paperweight.

"…Christine left." He said quietly, no emotion in his tone. Nadir's eyes widened.

"What?"

"She left."

"How? Why?" Nadir said, leaning forward in a sort of morbid curiosity. Erik exhaled heavily, still staring intently at the orb.

"Because of Anna."

"Your dreams?"

"Yes. She told me… that I had to decide. That she didn't want to love me if I couldn't let go of Anna." Erik said in a slow voice. He wasn't entirely sure why he was telling Nadir this. Because he was his friend? Or because he would be willing to listen? Or even for the simple fact that Nadir cared?

Erik didn't know. He didn't care. He lowered the paperweight and said,

"She's staying with Sorelli. Until I decide what I want."

"And what is that?" Nadir pushed. Erik shook his head.

"I want her. But I can't… I can't forget Anna. Even if I wanted to, the dreams are… too frequent. Too dark."

"Dark?" Nadir let the point drop and then said, "I can't offer anything except advice. And that would be to remember the main difference between Christine and Anna."

"Oh?"

"Christine is alive. She's not Anna but she loves you, she's willing to spend her life with you. I know that you loved Anna and I'm sure that she loved you too but Christine is here and Anna is not. You just need to find a way to let Anna go."

"How do I do that?" Erik asked, sounding genuinely in need of help. Nadir shrugged.

"If I knew, I would tell you. Now, I'm going to send the cast and crew to lunch for an hour. I expect you to be in this afternoon's rehearsal. I covered for you this morning but I have an engagement this afternoon."

"What engagement?"

"I'm going to Populaire Advertising to sort out the opening night. The one you're refusing to help organise." Nadir said dryly. He got to his feet and then leant over to pluck the paperweight from Erik's fingers. "And you won't find any answers in there."

He left the office and Erik stared after him. After a few moments of contemplative silence, he got to his feet and walked from his hiding place to catch up on the rehearsal details from that morning.

* * *

"Christine?" She looked up from her desk to see Jammes standing nervously in the doorway. She smiled.

"Come in, Jammes. Is everything alright?"

"I don't know." She sat in the chair opposite Christine's desk, sat upright with her fingers twisting together in her lap. "It's about Carlotta."

"What's wrong?" Christine said, frowning. Jammes swallowed.

"I was… wondering about the cutbacks. The firings. I haven't been with the company all that long, I'm the most recent employee and I don't have much experience… I guess I just want to know if it's possible that I could be one of the ones to go." She said in a rush, avoiding Christine's gaze. Christine was silent for a moment, wondering how to answer. After a pause she sad,

"Jammes, I'm not going to lie to you. Carlotta is on the warpath. You know that she and I… well, we don't get on."

"Bit of an understatement." Jammes said with a small grin. Christine smiled.

"Yes, that's true. Well, the thing is that she can't fire me. Firmin wouldn't allow it. But she knows that I like you and I take a special interest in your work. I promise that if you get fired it's not because you're not good at your job."

"But…?" She waited. Christine licked her lips.

"I've already told Firmin that if Carlotta tries to get rid of you, I'm leaving too."

"Christine, you can't!" Jammes cried but Christine held up a hand.

"No, I won't. Carlotta is not getting rid of anyone from my department. I won't let her. I promise you, Jammes, I won't let her fire you."

"You shouldn't make promises that you can't keep." Jammes warned. Christine shrugged.

"I didn't."

The phone on her desk rang and she picked it up. It was Firmin's receptionist.

"Christine, Mr Khan is here."

"Can you send him to my office, Shelley? Thanks." She put the phone down. "Excuse me, Jammes; Mr Khan is here for a meeting."

"OK. Thanks Christine."

"No problem."

Christine stood and walked with her to the door. Nadir was crossing the office floor towards her. Jammes thanked Christine again and waved to Nadir as she went to her cubicle. Christine smiled briefly at Nadir.

"Come in."

"Thank you." He closed the door behind him as Christine went to sit behind her desk.

"I'll be honest, I've barely had a moment to think up any ideas for the opening, but I was thinking that we could-"

"Christine."

She looked up. He was standing by her desk, a solemn expression on his face. Christine felt a lump rise in her throat.

"Nadir, I can't talk about that. Not right now. I just need to… to work."

"Very well. We'll work first." Nadir said, sitting down. Christine was silent for a moment before taking out the folio of all of the work she had previously used on the _Hannibal_. For nearly an hour they came up with various ideas and Christine got into it, running various thoughts by him, designs and ideas already popping up in her mind. When they finished she went to the machine, returning with coffees for them. She gave him a resigned look.

"Go ahead." She said tiredly, knowing what he wanted to talk about. He looked at her pityingly.

"Erik told me what happened."

"I thought he might. What did he say?"

"That you left because of Anna. Is that true?"

Christine sipped her coffee and then nodded slowly.

"It's true."

"He does love you."

"But he loves her as well. And I don't know how much. I'm not trying to be selfish, Nadir. I know that he misses her and that he's always going to love her. But… I can't fight for his love. I don't even know if I should. I love him but I can't fight for him. You can't fight someone who's dead."

"It's not your place to fight for him." Nadir said firmly. "He has to learn to let go of Anna."

"But if he does, it'll be because I made him. And what will that make me in his eyes?" Christine pointed out.

"It will make you his salvation."

Poignant words, solemnly spoken. Christine considered them for a few minutes as they silently drank their coffee. She looked up.

"How is he? I mean… did he seem angry? Or upset?"

"I'm not entirely sure. He missed rehearsal; he was just sitting in his office playing with a paperweight all morning. But he emerged this afternoon so I could come here for our meeting. In truth, Christine, he seemed numb. As though he weren't entirely sure that it had actually happened. Well," he grinned, "Either that or he was sulking."

Christine smiled at that statement and drained her cup, dropping it into the bin. Nadir stood and smiled at her.

"Give him time, Christine. He'll make his mind up."

"One way or the other." Christine added. Nadir nodded and she followed him out of the office. Sorelli instantly appeared at Nadir's side.

"Trying to sneak out without saying hello?" She demanded with a smile. Nadir returned the expression.

"Of course not." He kissed her sweetly and then nodded to Christine. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes, you will. You're coming over for dinner tonight." Sorelli told him. Nadir smiled and headed to the exit. Sorelli looked at Christine.

"You don't mind him coming over?"

"No, don't be silly. Nadir's a darling."

"Isn't he just?" Sorelli grinned. She stretched and rubbed her stomach. "I wish he'd stop kicking. It was cute at first but it's starting to get a little annoying."

"Energetic little guy, isn't he?"

"Sure is."

"Got any names yet?" Christine asked. Sorelli nodded.

"A couple. I quite like Sean. And I'm leaning towards Tristan as well."

"Those are both nice." Christine agreed. She glanced at her watch. "I'll go and finish some work before we go home."

She went back to her office and sat at her desk, thinking about what she had told Nadir. It was true. She almost viewed Anna as competition for Erik's affections. And you couldn't win against the dead. She sighed heavily and shook her head.

She hated herself for leaving. She hated herself for wanting to go back. And, more than anything, she hated herself for hurting Erik. Everyone was telling her that she had done the right thing, but what could she do if Erik decided that he was better off without her? How could she start again after all that had happened? She wanted him to need her, but in truth she needed him just as much. They had gone through so much pain and trauma just to be together in the first place. And if he made a decision against her, she would have to start anew.

Christine decided then and there that if the worst happened and Erik turned her away, she would leave. Not just across the town, as she had done with Raoul. Out of town. London, maybe, or even further. It would be easier to start in a strange town, where she could be completely anonymous.

She sat perfectly still for a moment, contemplating the decision. And then she put her head in her hands, not crying but feeling utterly defeated.

* * *

Christine sat in Sorelli's lounge, working on the _Hannibal_ opening. Some classical music played from the CD player, Beethoven's 9th symphony filling the room quietly. Christine tapped her pen in time to the music as she leant over the low coffee table. The doorbell rang and Christine let Sorelli get it. At least, that was the idea. The doorbell rang a second time and Christine called,

"Sorelli, get the door!"

There was no reply. Christine listened carefully and heard running water. She must be in the shower. Sighing, she got to her feet and pulled open the door, ready to rebuke whoever it was simply for interrupting her work.

Raoul stood on the porch, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. Christine looked at him blankly.

"What are you doing here?" She said, genuinely confused. How had he known where she was staying?

"I heard that you and Destler had split up." Christine felt irritation rising in her chest and leant against the doorframe.

"Raoul, no. Erik and I are trying to work things out, I don't need you-"

"Hey, hey!" Raoul frowned, holding up his hands to halt her speech. "I'm just here to make sure you're alright. It's all over the Hawthorn. I heard that you'd moved out of your apartment and I wanted to make sure you were safe and had somewhere to stay."

Instantaneous guilt flooded through Christine like hot water. She looked down at the floor shamefully.

"Oh…"

"Yeah, 'oh' is right. I was worried about you, that's all. Believe it or not, I'm really not that evil. So I called up Populaire Advertising to talk to you but whoever answered said that you'd already gone. I got the address and came to check up on you." He grinned at her pink face. "Bet you feel pretty bad right now."

"I've felt better." She admitted. "I'm sorry, I've just had a rough weekend and seeing you…"

"You assumed I was here to make it worse." Raoul finished. He smiled and shrugged. "Afraid I'm going to have to disillusion you. I'm here to make peace."

He sat down on one of the chairs on the porch. Christine took one as well and he looked at her,

"So, what's going on? I mean, if you don't mind telling."

"It's rather personal." She replied. "But it's not just Erik, although that's the main thing. Work is hell at the moment."

"How come?"

"You know Carlotta Guidacelli? She's been made an envoy of Guidacelli Tech at Populaire. She's on a total power trip and is trying to get one of my friends fired because she can't fire me."

"Why don't you just get rid of her? Can't Richard Firmin get her out?"

"Guidacelli Tech backs Populaire. They provide our equipment and a big chunk of our funds. Without them we'd go under. So we're stuck with her." Christine sank back into the chair, staring out at the road, cars trundling past in the hot weather. "I'll see how things go. They can only get better, right?"

"By the sounds of it, they can't get much worse for you." Raoul agreed. Christine looked back to him.

"What about you? How's life been treating you?"

"Since when? Since you left or just recently?"

"Your choice."

"Well… after you left I pretty much just dived headfirst into the family business. Phil's been taking care of me but I've got the ropes by now. That's why he's been sending me out to places, finding business to invest in. I caught wind of all of the hype about the Hawthorn and went to see one of the shows. I can't remember what it was called…" he frowned, trying to remember, "Il something. I think it was Italian."

"_Il Muto_."

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, I went to see that and it was good. So I convinced Phil to invest. Obviously, I didn't realise at the time that you were doing work for them, as well as being involved with Destler."

"To be fair, Erik and I weren't involved when you came to my apartment." Christine said. Raoul chuckled.

"Anyway, yeah. That's about it. I've done a lot of work mostly. Spent a few weeks in LA, Phil's investing in some new company there and he wanted me to check it out. That turned out pretty well."

"It sounds like you were busy." Christine said. He nodded, putting his hands behind his head, lounging in the sunshine.

"Yeah. It's been crazy. But I'll admit I nearly fell to pieces when you left. I mean, I know we both wanted the divorce over. But it was a case of not knowing what you've got until it's gone." He looked over at her and smiled faintly. Christine felt rather uncomfortable, but maintained eye contact until he looked away.

He stretched his legs out.

"But things are better now. Phil's engaged, they're getting married next year, if they ever decide on a date."

"What about you?" Christine asked, not entirely sure why she was. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"I've been on a few dates. Phil set them up mostly. But I haven't really met anyone. You're hard act to follow, Chris. But, what with my charms, good looks and enormous piles of cash, I'm bound to meet someone sooner or later."

"And so very modest." Christine said lightly. Raoul grinned.

"Come on, you know I'm adorable."

"I'm not saying anything." She said firmly. He laughed and glanced over at her.

"Fine. I won't force you to. We both know the truth."

She couldn't help smiling. A clock chimed through the open front door.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" She offered. Raoul shook his head.

"No, I'd better get going." He stood up and brushed down his shirt. Christine got to her feet and he smiled at her. "It was good to see you, Chris. It was also great to have a conversation that didn't end up with one of us being completely insulted."

"A rare moment for us." She agreed. He smiled and patted her on the shoulder in a friendly gesture.

"I'll see you around. If things get tough, give me a call. I know what you're like, so bloody proud. It won't kill you to accept some help." He warned. Christine nodded and he sloped down the steps towards the pavement where his large, expensive car was parked. Christine went inside and found Sorelli standing nearby, eavesdropping with damp hair and pink skin from her shower.

"Sorelli!"

"Hey, this is too good to pass up. What was Mr Ex-husband doing here?" She eyed Christine. "Trying to get back in your pants?"

"Charming, Sorelli. And no. He was… making sure I was alright, if you can believe it." Christine closed the door and shrugged. "It was… weird. But nice. He's easier to deal with when he's not hitting on me all the time."

"I'm going to start dinner. Do you want finish up your work?" Sorelli said. Christine nodded and went to sit in the living room.

It had been a funny sort of day.

**A/N: I hope this chapter helps to clear up a few things. And I know, Raoul isn't a complete loser anymore. In truth, I like Raoul, he's not a bad guy and I didn't want to make him one. A little irritating, maybe, but no evil. He's not going to start slapping Christine about any second either! **

**This chapter is lovingly dedicated to the wonderful Killer Veggies for her Fanart: **

**http/ img . photobucket . com / albums / v159 / Squirrelie / Art /TGND01 . gif**

**Thank you for the awesome reviews, I can't believe how many people are reading this story! I'm a self-declared review whore and you wonderful people are feeding my addiction. Thank you!**

**Love**

**Katie**


	34. Shell

**The Girl Next Door**

"Good choice, going with yellow." Christine commented. Sorelli grinned and dipped the roller into the tray of paint.

"I didn't want blue, it's just too stereotypical. Besides, yellow is a cheerful colour." She stepped back to admire the room they were transforming for the baby. Christine began to run the roller up and down the wall as Nadir came in with drinks. He set the tray down and gave an approving glance around the freshly painted walls.

"It looks very good." He said, putting his arms around Sorelli. Christine smiled to herself as she continued to paint.

It had been almost a week since she had left. In fact, it would be a week tomorrow. And in that time she had had no word from Erik. Whenever she asked about him, Nadir simply said that he was fine and Christine didn't like to push. But living with Sorelli had proved to be a very enjoyable experience. Nadir had spent a lot of time with them and it was lovely to see the way that they interacted. Whilst Erik and Christine's relationship had been passionate and heated, intense and almost desperate in their need for one another, Sorelli and Nadir were the epitome of sweet, simple love. They weren't dating, or going out – they were a couple, pure and simple. Christine didn't know how Nadir was feeling about being with a woman who was pregnant with another man's child, but he took a keen interest in everything to do with the baby. He had taken to running out to the shops whenever Sorelli's cravings took over, he had picked up all of their supplies for the painting, he had already ordered furniture for the room and was at that moment reminding Sorelli of a doctor's appointment in the week. It was clear to see that he absolutely adored Sorelli, and her feelings for him were just as strong.

She picked up a glass of lemonade and drained half of it in one go. Nadir smiled at her.

"Hard work?"

"It's worth it though. We just need to wait for this final coat to dry and I'll varnish the floor tomorrow. Sorelli can't exactly crawl about on the floor."

"I'll help you, Christine. Sorelli could go to the furniture shop and decide what rugs she wants for the floor." Nadir suggested. Sorelli nodded in agreement and used the roller to cover the final patch of bare wall, smoothing it over and admiring their handiwork.

"Hey, Christine, if we do end up getting fired from Populaire, we can always go into interior designing. We're damn good at this!"

"Hate to burst your bubble but it doesn't take a genius to paint a wall." Christine said, putting her roller down and wiping the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. "God, if Carlotta doesn't kill me, the weather will. It's almost September, why is it so hot?"

"You try being seven and a half months pregnant in it." Sorelli muttered.

Christine went for a shower, wanting to clean the paint from her skin whilst Nadir and Sorelli went downstairs. As she stood in the stream of hot water her mind wandered, as it so often did these days, to the occupant of apartment 5a, 142 Gaston Place. What was he doing right now? Was he thinking of her? Was he feeling sad, or lonely? She hadn't realised exactly how much she would miss him. How had she spent all of that time with him and not realised what he was? More than once she had woken up and reached over to curl up next to him, expecting to feel warm flesh and strong arms pulling her in.

But he was never there.

She turned the water off and climbed out. Once dry, she put on a cool summer skirt and top, tying her hair into a ponytail. Sorelli and Nadir were in the kitchen, making dinner and listening to the radio.

"Anything I can do?" She offered.

"We're all covered in here. Why don't you relax?" Sorelli suggested. Christine eyed her.

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

"Quite possibly. Get out of my kitchen."

Christine smiled and retreated to the living room. Cat was watching dust particles dance in the sunlight. Not quite bored enough to join in with such an activity, Christine turned on the television.

The news was on and she watched with semi-interest. There didn't seem to be much happening locally. Sighing, she reached for her bag. Inside were several songs that she had collected from home on Friday lunchtime. She had made a run home after making sure that Erik would be at the theatre. Within the folder were several pieces, some of Erik's originals and some by classical composers.

She sat and read the songs through, tempted to sing but forcing herself not to. This had been one of her rules. No more singing. Not until she knew what was going to happen with Erik. Christine put the music away and sat on the sofa, feeling bored. Which was not good, because when she was bored her thoughts went to one thing.

* * *

"Christine, a word?" Firmin said on Monday. She nodded and followed him to his office.

"What is it?"

"Mr Khan has requested another meeting for tomorrow morning. He wants to go through the progress on the opening night of _Hannibal_ with us."

"Alright."

"He'll be bringing Mr Destler." Firmin said. Christine didn't react.

"That's fine, Richard."

"Christine-"

"I said it'll be fine, Richard." Christine said again. "This has nothing to do with my personal life. I am not going to let this affect my work."

Firmin did not look convinced but let it pass.

Christine left his office and went to the coffee machine, trying to stay calm. Tomorrow… tomorrow she would be seeing Erik. For the first time in over a week. Why was she so afraid?

"What's up with you?" Meg asked, making her own coffee. Christine explained the situation and Meg whistled. "Well, that sucks."

"Thank you, Meg. That was very helpful."

"I know, I know. But what can I say? It'll be tough, you'll probably cry afterwards and then things will get better for a bit before your next traumatising meeting." Meg said, waving her spoon airily. Christine couldn't help but give a small smile at Meg's infectious optimistic nature as she carried her coffee back to her office, determined to finish the basics for the opening night, which was now only a month away.

* * *

It was Christine's plan to go to the meeting, get through it and leave as soon as possible. Not that things went according to her plan, because that would have been convenient for her. And, as Christine thought, a little bitterly, nothing had been convenient lately, so why should this have been?

It started off as a fairly ordinary morning. Sorelli was in the living room doing her hair whilst Christine ate her cornflakes, flicking through the morning newspaper. And then she heard her name being called. She went into the living room to find Sorelli perched on the edge of her seat, clutching her stomach.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I… I don't know. I feel weird." Sorelli said, her voice edged with panic. Christine frowned.

"What do you mean 'weird'?"

"It… it feels strange. Tight and… and it hurts. Christine, something's not right." Sorelli said, her voice sliding higher and higher. Christine leapt into action.

"I'll get your bag; we're going to the hospital."

Within five minutes they were driving to the hospital, Sorelli still clutching her stomach and wincing. Christine helped Sorelli into A&E, where they spoke to a nurse, who sent for Sorelli's regular doctor. Doctor Yoshida. She was a young woman, very pretty with her black hair into a ponytail.

"Sorelli, come through here." She took them to a side room where Sorelli sat on a table and described what was happening. Christine sat anxiously, waiting whilst Doctor Yoshida examined her friend. After a few tense moments Doctor Yoshida smiled.

"There's nothing to worry about. What you're experiencing is Braxton Hicks contractions. Perfectly harmless but if you've never had them before they can be worrying."

"The baby's OK?" Christine asked.

"Absolutely fine. Braxton Hicks are quite common, but absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Thanks Doctor Yoshida." Sorelli said, sliding off the table with a sheepish expression on her face. The doctor smiled and left them. Christine glared at her friend.

"If you do that again, I will murder you."

"Sorry, Chris. I was just panicking." Sorelli mumbled, going pink. Christine smiled.

"No problem. C'mon, I'm taking you home. You may as well get some rest. I'll let Firmin-" She gasped suddenly and then swore loudly. Sorelli stared at her.

"What?"

"The meeting! Christ, I forgot all about it! Come on, I've got to get you home!"

* * *

Firmin glanced at his watch again. Fifteen minutes had passed. Nadir and Erik were sat awkwardly at the table. Meg was picking a nail rather nervously as they waited for Christine and the folder of work she had with her.

At that moment, Christine was speeding down a street, only just within the limits and she was quite sure that she had gone through a red light a few streets back. She pulled into the Populaire Advertising car park and ran up into the office. Shelley looked up in surprise.

"You're late."

"Thanks, Shelley." Christine muttered, running through the office, folder tucked under her arm. She threw open the door and everyone looked at her in astonishment as she fell through the door, panting heavily. Firmin tapped his watch.

"Christine, you're nearly twenty minutes late!" He said, crossly.

"I… I know…" Christine panted. "Sorelli… hospital…"

"What?" Nadir was on his feet immediately. "What happened? Where's Sorelli?"

Christine held up a finger, indicating that she needed a moment as she collapsed into a chair. When she felt capable of speech, she said,

"Sorelli had pains in her stomach. I had to take her to the hospital."

"By Allah, is she alright?" Nadir grasped Christine's shoulder tightly.

"She's fine. It was… oh, yes, Braxton Hicks contractions. The doctor said it was nothing to worry about but I took her home to make sure that she was recovered. Is that alright, Richard?" Christine looked at her employer, who nodded earnestly.

"Yes, yes, that's fine. Are you sure she's alright?"

"Yes. I just forgot all about the meeting… I think I ran someone down trying to get here though." She joked weakly. At least she could breathe again, although her face was hot and red from running and panicking.

Erik watched her, torn between amusement and desperation. How was it possible for the mere presence of her to be driving him to distraction? At the same time he wanted to laugh, cry and seize her. It was… insanity. She began to take out her work on the opening night, occasionally fanning at her face to try and cool herself. To her credit, she managed to get going fairly quickly, showing all of her plans and suggestions in a very professional manner.

But she didn't look at him.

He didn't need to say a word, it turned out. Nadir handled everything and dealt with it very efficiently. It was nearly the end of the meeting when Erik finally spoke, not because he wanted an answer but because he knew that if he left this room without Christine's sweet voice addressing him, he would regret it eternally.

"What about the invitations for the opening? I assume they'll be sent to specific guests?"

"Mr Khan gave me a list of the most important guests. I'm having designed invitations made. I think I've got a rough design…" Christine dug in her folder and drew out a piece of card, handing it to him. Their fingers brushed together and Christine had to force herself to stay calm. Their eyes met for a moment and she looked away, aware of the awkwardness that everyone must have noticed between them.

The meeting ended soon after that and both Nadir and Erik declined Firmin's offer of coffee. They prepared to leave and Nadir looked to Christine.

"Tell Sorelli I'll be coming over tonight. I want to make sure she's alright."

"No problem." Christine nodded and looked once again at Erik. He was watching intensely and it took every ounce of her willpower not to go to him then and there. Instead she picked up her folder and left the room, brushing a non-existent hair agitatedly from her face. Erik watched her go and, if possible, his cracked heart broke a little more. It may not be in pieces but it was certainly heading that way.

Meg caught up with Christine in her office after the meeting. She was tapping away at her computer, looking at the screen with a completely blank face. Meg tapped her shoulder.

"You OK?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so." Meg hugged her quickly. "I'll get you a coffee and something laden with calories."

That was her answer to everything. Caffeine and sugar. And occasionally it did help.

* * *

Erik stepped into the elevator of 142 Gaston Place and watched as the numbers lit up, speeding him past the floors to the fifth level. The doors opened with a smooth _swoosh_ and he moved down to apartment 5a. He stopped and looked at the door opposite and, as it did every night when he returned from the theatre, his mind imagined the possibility of going inside and finding Christine waiting for him.

He turned away and went to his apartment. After removing his coat and jacket he stood for a moment before going into the kitchen. He drained a glass of water and went to the piano, beginning to play, anything that came into his mind, whatever happened to be on the music stand. As long as he kept playing, he did not have to think about whatever else might be happening.

His mind had been ravaged over and over again by what to do. But no solution had been offered, no help, no assistance of any kind. And so he played music. For music was faithful and he knew it well. Music played no tricks on his mind and music would not leave him.

His fingers faltered on the keys as the memory of how Christine had acted that morning returned. Of how she had tried so hard not to make things awkward, how she had tried to distance herself. Erik stood and went into the bedroom, to the drawer, to Anna's possessions. He knew them off by heart by now. But looking at them still gave him a sense of… he didn't know what, exactly.

And then he stood, turned and looked at the bedside table where Christine's cross lay. She had not packed it and it was a constant reminder of all that she had given him. Love, acceptance, companionship and trust. Erik knew that he would be an utter fool to throw that away. But his dreams had not waned with Christine's departure. They came as frequent and strong as ever they did.

Erik looked at the clock. Something had to be done. Seeing Christine today, for the first time in over a week, had spurred him to make some action, to resolve himself one way or the other. He went to the telephone and dialled Nadir's telephone number.

"Yes?" Nadir answered, sounding as though he were busy.

"Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"I was just going to see Sorelli, but I can hold on for a few minutes if you need something."

"I require the day off for tomorrow." Erik said. Nadir hesitated.

"Oh… should I ask why or are you going to tell me to mind my own business?"

"I have something to do. Out of town. It will only take one day."

"Of course. I'll have Jack take rehearsals for tomorrow. Anything else?" Nadir said, voice muffling at the end of the sentence, as though he had turned his head away to do something. Erik replied,

"No. That's all."

"Very well. I'll see you the day after tomorrow then."

Erik put the phone down and poured himself a brandy. He sat with the amber liquid and stared out of the window. A bird was chirruping somewhere nearby, it's sweet song filling the air.

* * *

The next day when Christine got to the office, she quickly gathered that something was wrong. She and Sorelli looked at each other as they entered to find people gathered in small groups, talking anxiously. Meg rushed over.

"What's going on?" Christine asked. Meg chewed her lower lip.

"Carlotta. She's decided who's on the list to go. It's not final but…" She shrugged helplessly. Christine shook her head, jaw tensed in anger.

"She has _no_ right to do this."

"Well, she's making an announcement in a few minutes." Meg said. The three of them moved into the main office and were accosted by Jammes, who looked positively terrified.

"Christine, what am I going to do?" She whispered, her voice considerably higher pitched than usual. Christine put a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing, Jammes. I promised you, didn't I? She is _not_ firing you."

At that moment, everyone went silent. The four women turned to see Carlotta emerge from her office, a sheet of paper in one perfectly manicured hand. She looked around and said in a clear voice,

"I see word spreads fast. You all know what this is about. In order to further Populaire Advertising, it has been decided that there must be a few cutbacks. I don't need to explain, you all understand." She cleared her throat. "Here is the shortlist of people who may be leaving us."

Everyone tensed, waiting as Carlotta looked at her list.

"The first is Marla Pierson." A dark haired woman, a few years older than Christine turned away, biting down on her lip. Christine's hands balled into fists.

"The second is Carlton Michaels." A red-haired man with thin glasses slumped heavily. A friend put a hand on his shoulder, sympathy filling his features

"Next is Lila Faye." A pretty Chinese girl, quite new to the company and working in communications let out a sob, clasping her hands to her mouth. Carlotta looked around one last time.

"And finally, Jammes Oscaro. If there are-"

"Don't even _think_ about it, Guidacelli!"

Everyone turned as Christine, face blazing, pushed through the crowd. Jammes stood with Meg and Sorelli, her face pale and her eyes wide. Carlotta lifted an eyebrow.

"What did you say?"

"I said, don't even think about it. You are not firing Jammes. She is from MY department and you have no power there. And as for the rest of them, they are not becoming pawns in your power trip! You have got no right to fire _any_ of these people!" Christine said angrily. The air was thick with tension as the gathered employees looked from Carlotta to Christine. Carlotta's mouth twisted nastily.

"Frankly, Daae, you can't stop me. You might be Firmin's little favourite but it is my family's money that keeps this place afloat. Therefore, I am the one with the power, over any department I want. And if I say that that incompetent little brat has to go, then she's going. And don't think you're safe either - Firmin can't protect you forever!"

"Threaten me all you want." Christine spat, "But you are going to stay the hell away from these people!"

"You think you can stop me?" Carlotta sneered.

"I'm sure as hell going to try! I don't care if you go running to Daddy, I don't care if you throw a tantrum like the spoiled bitch that you are, but you are not firing any of these people!"

"I can, and I will!" Carlotta said in a furious tone.

"No, you are NOT!"

"_What the HELL is going on here_?" Shouted a voice that matched and surpassed either of theirs in anger. They both turned to see Firmin, his moustache bristling and his face a deep burgundy in colour. For a moment neither of them could talk and then Christine burst out,

"Richard, you can't let her fire them!"

"Christine, go to your office." He said in the same furious tone. Carlotta leered at her until he turned to her. "Carlotta, go to my office. I will speak with you shortly. And the rest of you, get back to work!" Nobody moved and he shouted, "NOW!"

They dispersed, talking excitedly. Christine stormed away to her office, Firmin on her heels. Once they were safely enclosed in the privacy of Christine's office he turned to her, face a picture of pure rage.

"What the hell are you playing at, Christine?"

"Richard, she can't fire them. Those four people are excellent workers; you know it as well as I do! How can you let her get away with this?" She demanded, slamming her fists onto the desk. Firmin watched her and then sighed, breathing heavily through his nose before saying a quiet, measured voice,

"Go home, Christine."

It took a moment for his words to pierce the scarlet fog that clouded her brain. She blinked.

"What?"

"Go home."

"…My God, you're _kidding_ me…" She said, in utter disbelief. Firmin held up his hands.

"You've left me with no choice. Until I contact you, you will work from home. It's clear to me that you and Carlotta cannot function within the same office."

"So you're sending me away?" Christine said, heart pounding at the unfairness of it all. Firmin sighed again.

"I see no other solution. I will call you in a couple of days, when I've managed to sort this all out."

"…I don't believe this." Christine mumbled, face flushed and eyes filled with tears. "Richard, how can you do this? I've been here for over three years, I've done so much work, and I've worked my _arse_ off for you, for Populaire. I've poured my life into this business! How can you do this to me?"

Her voice cracked and she took a sharp breath. Firmin didn't reply, his face transformed from anger to misery. He couldn't look her in the eye. Christine stared at him and then turned to her desk, grabbing at her things, seizing a couple of folders and stuffing them into her bag before walking past him to the door. It slammed behind him and he bowed his head, silently asking for forgiveness.

Silence fell upon the office as Christine walked through quickly, her expression halfway between pure anger and complete despair. Tears were still glistening in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She carried her bag under one arm and her coat under the other. Jammes was stood with Sorelli and Meg. All three turned to her as she walked past, but she did not speak to any of them, heading for the exit.

The door closed behind her and everyone turned as Firmin emerged, face set into an expression of resolve as he walked silently to his office. He was perfectly aware of the reproachful looks he was receiving from his staff but chose to ignore them.

Sometimes being in charge meant having to do things that you didn't want to.

* * *

Once back in Sorelli's home, Christine sank into a chair and let the tears flow free.

Nothing. She had _nothing_. Her life, her job, her love… they were all gone. What did she have once you took all those things away? A shell.

Christine buried her face into her hands, large gulping sobs escaping her as the reality of what had just happened hit her. This was too much. No person had been built to withstand all of these events at once, it just wasn't possible. She kicked her shoes off and curled onto the sofa, hugging a cushion to her chest as she sobbed loudly, mourning all that she had had and all that she had lost.

**A/N: What's that saying? It never rains but it pours. And that is standing true for poor Christine. Hopefully the next chapter will focus more on Erik and maybe some of the other characters as well. We'll see about that. **

**I'm not sure about this chapter. The first half all seems a little rushed but I quite like the second half. Well, tell me what you think! I appreciate every review that I get! And I would like to dedicate this chapter to Gondolier, who is ever so graciously lending me her expertise knowledge for future chapters.**

**Oh, and a quick mention to TheAngelCried who, after I jokingly suggested turning this into a Christine/Meg fic, threatened to burn her Blake book. Please - spare a thought for the Blake Books. They deserve our love.****  
**

**Love**

**Katie**


	35. Caught In A Web

**The Girl Next Door**

When Sorelli and Meg got back from work that evening, Christine had changed out of her formal work clothes and was curled on the sofa, Cat purring contentedly in her lap. They sat on either side of her and Meg stroked her arm.

"Are you alright?"

"I've lost Erik. I've lost my job. I just don't know what to do next." Christine said, she got up and began to pace the room, her friends watching her sympathetically.

"Christine, you haven't lost your job. You're just… temporarily discharged." Meg pointed out. Christine didn't reply. After a moment, she stopped and shook her head, pushing her hair from her face.

"Where did I go wrong? Everything was so _good_… after all the shit that happened with Raoul and the divorce; I never thought that things would get better again. But they did and now I've ruined it."

She bowed her head, a couple of curly locks falling into her face. She whispered,

"If Erik decides that he doesn't want me, I'm leaving."

"Leaving?"

"To where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere that doesn't have Carlotta Guidacelli or Erik Destler. Somewhere where I can start over. I can't…" She rubbed her bloodshot eyes and shook her head, leaving the room to ascend the stairs to her room. Sorelli and Meg exchanged a disturbed look, in which both decided that something had to be done.

* * *

Erik set off early that morning. His destination was a good seventy miles or more away. The powerful Jaguar zipped along the motorways, streaming towards his target. In the front seat of the car sat a box. No music played. He did not want distractions.

He slowed his speed to thirty as he entered the town. Nobody glanced twice at the Jaguar with tinted windows as it passed discreetly through the streets. Not too far from the centre of the town, he pulled over, parking the car by the curb. He climbed out of the car and took the box. Beside it lay a small bouquet of flowers. And then he turned to face the cold, steely gates of the cemetery.

As he moved through the gates, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees in spite of the steady sunshine that flooded the ground. He had only a vague idea of the location of the grave but the further he went into the graveyard, the clearer his mind came. He turned left, passing beneath some leafy trees that provided sweet shade from the sun's unforgiving heat. Erik walked slowly, being careful not to step on the earth in front of the graves.

A little way from the graves beneath the tree was a headstone of plain white marble. The grass sprung up around it, although it was free from moss or lichen. Erik moved slowly towards it and lowered to his knees. Slowly, carefully he brushed the grass away until the name was clear, it's strict, bold letters proclaiming the name of the woman who lay there.

**Anna Sophia Merrington**

**Born 14th June 1971**

**Died 26th October 1999**

**Beloved Daughter and Fiancée**

**Taken too soon but always in our hearts**

Anna's parents had organised the funeral. Whilst they had never been particularly fond of Erik, they had both been extremely distressed at his plans to leave after the funeral. Erik had not seen them since his departure and had always thought that to make contact with them would have interfered with the life that they would have established after the loss of their daughter.

Erik placed the flowers in the marble vase over the grave and read and reread the words to himself. How… ordinary they seemed. How mundane. They did not do justice to the extraordinary woman in the earth below them. They did not encapsulate the true being of Anna Merrington, of all that she had done with her life, of all that she could have done had God not torn her from this earth.

For several long minutes Erik sat reading the words. A bird was singing somewhere. A blackbird, Erik guessed. He turned to the box and took out the pictures he had of Anna. There weren't as many as he had thought, about a dozen. He had kept only one. The others, he tucked next to the vase. Several other objects followed, the scarf, an earring (the other had been lost many years ago) and a small glass bottle that contained the last few drops of her scent. The other papers and scraps had been disposed of, they were not important.

The only other thing that was not present was Anna's ring. Erik would not, could not part with it. Instead he had taken it to a safety deposit box, where he kept some of the more valuable possessions he had acquired in his travels. It would stay in that dark, dusty box with the one photograph he still had of Anna.

With his task complete he looked back at the grave. It seemed wrong to leave without saying anything. There was nobody nearby, nobody to judge what he was about to do.

"You do understand, don't you?" He murmured, placing a hand on the earth. The grass was thick between his long fingers. "I love her. That isn't to say that I don't miss you or that I don't love you any longer. But one cannot love that which is gone, Anna. I'm still here, I'm still breathing and I love her so very much."

He paused and looked at the pictures, at the smiling faces.

"No more nightmares. No more haunting. I won't hurt her, Anna. I can't. Please… help me to let go." He whispered, a lump in his throat. "Let me love her freely."

For a moment he paused. He didn't know what he was expecting. Thunderbolts or some sort of revelations, or something of the sort. All that actually happened was a soft, warm breeze stirring the trees and lifting his hair slightly. And yet a strange, warm peace had settled over his soul. As a silent treaty had been made. He could almost imagine Anna's smile, a slight eye-roll, her voice saying '_Nothing's holding you back, Erik. What are you waiting for?_'

It was a good question. Erik stood and a half-smile touched his lips. He wanted nothing more than to race at top speed back to town, to go to Sorelli's house and take Christine home. But he couldn't. He needed to make sure first, to make sure that he truly was free. Tonight he would see what dreams or nightmares came and then, if Anna kept her promise, he would go to Christine and love her for as long as eternity could last.

* * *

The next day was Thursday. Sorelli had looked in on Christine before leaving for work. She had been sleeping, Cat perched on the end of the bed, cleaning his face with a paw. He gave her an offended look for interrupting him and turned his back on her, prowling towards the pillow.

Meg was waiting by the office door for her, when she arrived at work, leaning against the door with her arms folded in a pleased manner.

"How is she?" She asked.

"She was sleeping when I left. Meg, I am seriously worried about her. She's just… fallen apart. It's frightening." Sorelli murmured. "She's always been so strong."

"I know what'll cheer you up." Meg said, fighting back a grin. "Come and see what Jammes is doing." Sorelli gave her a confused look and they went inside.

They were instantly accosted by Jammes, who held a clipboard with several pieces of paper attached to it.

"Sign this."

"What is it?" Sorelli asked, scribbling her name.

"A petition for Christine's immediate return." Jammes grinned. "Nearly everyone's signed it. And you wait until you see what Marla and Lila are doing!"

The two other women who had been named as possible firings were sat at a computer by the printer with a crowd of people around them. Meg pushed through, curious as to what had captured their attention.

"What are you doing?"

"We're writing a letter to Mr Guidacelli, requesting Carlotta's removal." Marla said. "Jammes is doing the petition and Carlton is making up a few fake articles to scare Firmin and Carlotta into thinking that we're getting the local press involved. We don't like to resort to it but Christine risked her neck for us. Carlotta can't fire the whole company and the whole company is involved with this."

Meg and Sorelli looked at each other and smiled. Lila looked up at them,

"Got any more ideas? We've already agreed to strike if it gets that serious but we're hoping it won't come to that."

"Call Noel Lefevre and Ubaldo Piangi. They both worked with Christine; let's see if they'd be willing to support her return." Sorelli suggested. Meg tapped her arm, an idea blossoming in her mind.

"Tell Firmin that I've got an errand to run. I'll be back in an hour or so, two at the most. Marla, can you print that letter? I'll take it to Guidacelli Tech on my way back."

"Where are you going?" Sorelli said, half-distracted from the other information that was being fired at her. Meg grinned.

"To see your boyfriend."

* * *

Nadir and Erik were avidly discussing the opening night of _Hannibal_ when Meg arrived. She approached them, a confident expression on her face. They looked at her in surprise.

"Miss Giry." Erik said, surprised to see her. "What can we do for you?"

"It's not what you can do for me. It's what you can both do for Christine." Meg said. Erik's brow furrowed as he surveyed her with mistrustful eyes.

"What do you mean?" He demanded.

"Meg, is something wrong?" Nadir asked. He was clearly the more intuitive of the pair at the current moment in time so Meg spoke to him.

"Christine has been dismissed from work. She and Carlotta got into a massive argument yesterday and Firmin's making her work from home until he's decided what to do."

"Why were they arguing?"

"Carlotta's trying to fire four people from work for no reason other than her ego needs a boost. Christine told her there was no way in hell she'd let it happen and sparks flew. Anyway, the whole company is up in arms about it at the moment. Petitions going around, threats to involve the local press unless Christine's brought back, I've got a letter to deliver to Mr Guidacelli on my way back. We're getting all of Christine's clients involved, trying to rally a bit of support for her. And the Hawthorn is her biggest clientele."

Nadir and Erik exchanged a look.

"What do you want us to do?"

"Give Firmin a nasty phone call. Get on the phone to Guidacelli Tech. Come to the office and yell at people. Just something to show your support. We're leaning the peer pressure onto Firmin and if I've learned anything from school, it's that you should always give in to peer pressure."

They both looked at her blankly and she shrugged.

"I didn't do particularly well at school. Anyway, can I count on you two to help?"

"Of course. I'll go and call Firmin now." Nadir said. Erik looked at Meg.

"How… how is she?" he asked, a little awkwardly.

"Depressed. She looked like she'd crying all day when we got back yesterday." Meg made sure no one was listening before saying quietly, "Erik, she's thinking of leaving. Leaving town."

"What?"

"Look at it from her point of view. She thinks she's lost you, her job is on the edge of being taken away and she can't even live in her own apartment anymore. Everything she's fought for has been wiped out within a matter of days. All I'm saying is that we need to get her back on her feet and fast." Meg straightened and nodded to him. "I'd better get on my way, I've got a nasty letter to deliver and I'm highly going to enjoy doing it. See you later."

Erik hesitated and then said,

"If you need anything… if there's something I could do…" Meg smiled.

"I'll give you a call."

She disappeared in a flash of blonde hair. Erik watched her go and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had been planning to go and see Christine that night. He had had no nightmares, no dreams, nothing. It was the sign he had been waiting for.

But he would have to wait before rushing in to confess his complete love for her. Christine needed his help and he would not have denied her anything, even if the request was not direct. And he had a vague idea of what to do in order to help her.

* * *

Meg Giry was twenty-five years of age, blonde, five feet and six inches in height, slim, cheerful, positive, optimistic, caring, kind and a thousand other adjectives of the kind. Her mother was Caroline Giry, her father had been Adam Giry before he had passed away from terminal cancer just months after her birth. She had grown up in this town, gone to school here, gone to the local university to study design and communication. She spoke almost fluent French, enjoyed light rock/pop music, her favourite film was _Grease_ and her favourite food was chilli, although she was particularly partial to any kind of chocolate. She was seeing Matt Pearson and made it a point to go out with her friends on a regular basis.

She had met Christine in the summer before they started university. Meg had been a regular at the café where Christine worked part time. She had been with Christine throughout the loss of her father and whilst he two had drifted apart a little in university, Meg had been one of Christine's bridesmaids. Meg started work at Populaire Advertising and had told Christine about the open position. Thus they had started working together and their friendship had been reborn stronger than ever, to also include Sorelli who proved to be a loyal and buoyant friend from the first. When her marriage fell apart, Meg has taken Christine into her home and helped her to find a new place to live, with the assistance of Richard Firmin.

All these facts cannot truly contribute to the true description of the person that Meg was. But it provides enough of a description for one to understand the passion and determination that she felt in fighting for Christine's cause.

She walked into the impressive looking reception of Guidacelli Teach and approached the receptionist.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where to find Mr Guidacelli?"

"Mr Guidacelli is very busy today. Would you like an appointment?" The receptionist asked. Meg shook her head.

"I have urgent business to discuss with him, regarding his daughter. It's very important that I see him right away."

"Well… I'll call up, but I doubt he'll see you." She said, not sounding as if she particularly cared one way or the other. Meg nodded and lightly tapped the glass-top desk with her fingernails as the receptionist called through.

"Mr Guidacelli, I've got someone here from…"

"Populaire Advertising."

"From Populaire Advertising. She says she has urgent business regarding Miss Guidacelli." She paused and listened. "Of course, sir."

She hung up and looked at Meg.

"Take the elevator to the top floor."

"Cheers." Meg grinned at her and sauntered to the elevator.

Mr Guidacelli's office was surprisingly comfortable. Dark décor, leather chairs and a fantastic view of the town. He looked at her in curiosity as she entered and stood to shake her hand.

"What can I do for you, Miss…?"

"Meg Giry. I'm pretty much just here to deliver this." Meg handed him the envelope.

"What is it?"

"It is a request from the staff, not the manager mind you, but from the staff of Populaire Advertising that Carlotta be removed from the office." Meg said calmly.

Mr Guidacelli looked at her for a moment, his dark eyes slightly narrowed and then signalled for her to sit in the leather chair opposite his desk. Meg did so, thoroughly determined not to let herself be intimidated. But that did not seem to be Mr Guidacelli's aim.

"Miss Giry, might I ask why the staff are requesting this?"

"No offence, Mr Guidacelli, but Carlotta has made the office a nightmare to work in. You must know about her promotion?"

"Yes, of course."

"Since she's gotten that promotion she has been on the warpath. And yesterday she announced that she wanted to fire four people for no other reason than she wants to exercise her new power." Meg said calmly. Mr Guidacelli surveyed her for a few minutes and Meg continued.

"She and one of the workers, Christine Daae, got into an argument yesterday. Firmin has temporarily dismissed Christine because of it, even though she was only trying to stop Carlotta from firing those people. She's one of the best workers at PA and I can tell you now that everyone is unimpressed at her dismissal. Everyone in the office is prepared to strike if she loses her job."

"And don't think it needs to come to that." Mr Guidacelli said.

He reached onto his desk and took a cigarette from a packet. He offered one to her but she shook her head. He lit the cigarette and watched the wisps of blue smoke rise from the smouldering tip as he considered the situation. Meg waited, feeling a little impatient. He took the letter and opened it. His eyes slowly followed the lines of writing but his expression didn't falter from one of quiet contemplation.

Eventually he lowered the letter and took another puff of his cigarette before looking across at her.

"I can understand where you are all coming from. My daughter, much as I love her, is not the most compatible person in the world." He paused, smiling briefly, taking another inhalation of the cigarette. "You wish for me to remove her from the job?"

"Yes." Meg said.

"And what do you suppose she would do after that?"

"To be frankly honest, Mr Guidacelli, I don't care." Meg said flatly.

He looked at her and for a terrifying moment Meg thought he was going to start shouting. But instead he chuckled throatily and lounged back in his chair.

"I appreciate your honesty. I would need to send another envoy to Populaire Advertising, someone else from the company; you understand that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Hmm…" He stroked his chin, which was free of stubble. "Perhaps we could arrange something. I would need to discuss it with Richard Firmin first, of course. Maybe Carlotta would feel more at home in the family company."

Meg smiled.

"Thanks, Mr Guidacelli."

"I'll contact Firmin as soon as I have a chance. In the meantime, I have a board meeting to get to." He held out his and clasped hers. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Giry."

And, to his credit, he sounded as though he genuinely meant it.

* * *

When Meg returned to Populaire Advertising, she found it had not changed much, other than the fact that Carlotta had now barricaded herself in her office and was refusing to come out. This deserved a smile from all involved.

"Firmin is bouncing off the walls; his phone hasn't stopped ringing since we contacted the clients!" Jammes announced triumphantly. Sorelli smiled.

"How'd it go?"

"Erik and Nadir are in. And Mr Guidacelli looked like he was on our side as well."

"Fantastic!"

"He's coming!" Someone shouted. There was a scramble and quietness fell over the office as everyone pretended to be working. Firmin emerged, looking thoroughly red in the face. He caught sight of Meg and beckoned to her and Sorelli.

"I've just had the Hawthorn Theatre on the telephone. They're threatening to withdraw their business unless we reinstate Christine."

"Then don't you think you should?" Meg said. He glowered at her.

"You're perfectly aware of the situation I'm in. Do you think that I _wanted_ to dismiss her? Carlotta is too important!"

"And Christine apparently means nothing." Sorelli said quietly. Firmin sighed.

"You know that I don't think that. But unless a _miracle_ occurs, I can't move."

Sorelli's mobile phone began to ring and she flicked it open.

"Yes? Oh, hi! How are you feeling? …sure, that's no problem. Don't worry yourself, OK? See you later." She hung up. "That was Christine. She wants me to pick a few things up from her office so she can carry on working on the _Hannibal_ opening."

Meg glanced at Firmin, who shrugged feebly.

"Fine… take her whatever she needs."

"What she _needs_, Richard, is the job she has spent the last three years doing, the job she has poured herself into without hesitation. But she can't have it because that," Meg gestured at Carlotta's office, "pathetic excuse for a human being is more important to you now."

Firmin didn't reply. What could he have said? Anything he said would have just dug him deeper into his hole. Meg walked away to her cubicle, where she sat watching him with narrowed eyes. He turned to Sorelli, but she had disappeared as well. Feeling thoroughly rejected, he returned to his office.

* * *

Raoul de Chagny had started the day in a fairly good mood. It looked to be another ordinary day and he had a few plans of what to do. What he could not have foreseen was the telephone call he received from one Erik Destler.

"Destler? As if in, the Hawthorn Destler? Christine's Destler?"

"Congratulations. Now that you've solved the mystery, I need to have a word with you." The sarcastic, smooth voice oozed from the receiver. Raoul scowled and said,

"What can I do for you, Mr Destler?"

"Christine needs a favour."

"Oh? Why hasn't she rung me herself?" Raoul said, turning from side to side in his rotating chair.

"Because she is currently… unavailable. Do you know a Carlotta Guidacelli?"

"Sure, she works at Populaire, doesn't she? She and Christine don't get on." Raoul said, twirling his pen between his fingers, wondering exactly why he was talking to this man.

"Due to Carlotta's interference, Christine has been dismissed. Her job is in the balance."

Raoul dropped his fountain pen in surprise. Ink splattered the page of clean, white paper before him but he ignored it.

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it."

"But… why are you calling me?"

"Miss Giry visited me earlier today. She and the rest of the employees at Populaire are trying to gather as much support as possible for Christine in order to convince Mr Firmin to reinstate her."

"And you want me to help?"

"Your name holds a large amount of influence in this town. Even if you aren't directly working with Populaire, your support for her cannot do anything but help Christine."

Raoul was silent for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure what to say. He knew that Erik Destler would not beg for his involvement, even if it did benefit Christine. He took a deep breath and said,

"I assume that you'd rather Christine didn't know that we had discussed this?"

"If it's all the same to you."

"That's fine. Destler… you shouldn't let her get away. I did and I'm still regretting it. I think you've still got a chance. Don't blow it."

"…Goodbye." He hung up and Raoul sat with a thoughtful frown on his face before calling the secretary in.

"Can you get me a number for Populaire Advertising, please?"

* * *

"How long have they been in there?" Sorelli muttered, watching Carlotta's office door. It was no late afternoon and about an hour previously Mr Guidacelli had materialised, insisting that he and Firmin meet with Carlotta immediately to discuss the situation.

"Too long." Meg said, perched on the edge of Jammes desk. Jammes was chewing her nails one by one, nervously waiting for news. Everyone was strolling the office tensely, drinking countless cups of coffee and walking casually past Carlotta's office in the hope of hearing something. Sorelli sat down, rubbing her swollen stomach as Meg whistled tunelessly, counting the ceiling panels again as they waited for the results of their campaign. It did not seem dissimilar to waiting for a verdict that could condemn one to life or death. And so they continued to wait.

* * *

Christine put down her pen and reached for her mobile phone as it began to ring in an obnoxiously cheerful ring tone. She glanced at the screen and froze.

_Call incoming_

_Populaire Advertising_

**A/N: Quick update! Because your reviews were just awesome! I told you Christine would hardly appear in this chapter. I'm trying to round Meg out a bit and it was interesting to go from different points of view. Probably not my best work but I like the idea of everyone in PA gathering around to help Christine out. **

**Love**

**Katie**


	36. A Moment With You

**The Girl Next Door**

"Congratulations, Christine." Nadir said warmly at dinner that night. Christine flushed, smiling as they all lifted their glasses.

"Don't congratulate me. These two need the thanks for all that they did." She said, gesturing at Meg and Sorelli, who grinned at each other.

"We are great."

"Fantastic really." Sorelli agreed. Christine laughed and took a mouthful of the food Sorelli had cooked for their special meal.

"You're a very popular lady, Chris. Noel Lefevre, Ubaldo Piangi, the Hawthorns and half a dozen others all called Firmin to insist on you getting your job back." Meg commented.

"And don't forget a certain Mr de Chagny." Sorelli added. Christine looked at her sharply.

"What?"

"Raoul called up too. Said that he'd cut all ties with Populaire if Firmin didn't bring you back." Meg agreed. Christine blinked, astonished.

"But… how did he know?"

"You know how word gets around." Nadir said. "He probably heard it off the grape vine." Christine nodded and said,

"I'm just _so_ relieved. I don't know how I would have managed without my job."

"You might have had to have a social life, heaven forbid." Sorelli teased. Christine put on a pout.

"I have a social life!"

"You mean you go to Club Garnier once a month with me and Meg."

"That's a social life!" Christine laughed. "Besides, I like staying in. I like just watching TV, or playing music, or drawing, or anything like that!"

Meg smiled and said,

"Anyway, we can't wait to have you back, Christine. Work just isn't the same without you."

"Thanks, Meg." Christine smiled. "You really don't know how much this means to me."

She did, actually. But, Meg thought as she smiled to herself, things weren't perfect yet. There were still a couple of things to do before they started celebrating. She was going to sort Christine out, since she seemed incapable of doing it by herself.

Besides -what else were friends for if not interfering in the personal lives of others?

* * *

Sorelli and Christine ascended the steps to Populaire Advertising with a certain amount of triumph in their step the next morning.

"This is a little embarrassing. I can't believe you all did that for me." Christine smiled. Sorelli laughed.

"Please, we were only doing what you did for the others. Only on a larger scale. Get in there." Christine went inside and grinned as someone started applauding. Jammes appeared in front of her, beaming.

"Great to have you back, Christine!"

"Thank you so much, Jammes. Sorelli and Meg told me what you did." Christine replied. Jammes flushed slightly.

"No problem. I couldn't let my favourite boss go. Not after what you did for me."

"Ah, Christine, I'm glad you're here," Firmin said, joining them, "I've had the decorating people on the telephone for _Hannibal_, they want to discuss schemes with you."

The others wandered off and Firmin murmured,

"No hard feelings?"

"I think you're going to have to buy me some cake before I forgive you." Christine smiled, taking a folder from him. Firmin winked and went back to his office. "Good cake, Richard!" Christine called before continuing across the floor to her office. It took considerably longer than usual as she was continually accosted by employees who wanted to tell her how great it was to see her. Finally she reached her sanctuary and closed the door behind her. There was a small pile of work on her desk and she sighed.

"Welcome back Christine. Here's a pile of work." She muttered, sitting down, unwilling to admit exactly how pleased she actually was.

She started on the Hawthorn work first. It was rather strange, she thought vaguely, how she could work on Erik's products and somehow keep it completely separate from him. Even though she unconsciously put more effort into the Hawthorn projects, Christine never thought about how this was directly affecting Erik. And yet, this was _his_. This was all for him and she wanted to make it her best work, because she knew it would be for him.

It didn't make sense. Everything that had happened with Erik could go down the drain in a simple phone call, but she was still striving to make him happy. Still trying to keep him from becoming sad, or hurt, or upset even when she wasn't with him, couldn't see him. It was unbearable to think of him being troubled, but she was the one who had put him in that position.

It just didn't make sense.

At lunch, Sorelli's head appeared around Christine's door.

"Coming to the pub? A group of us are heading there for lunch."

"OK. Give me a moment." Christine replied, tapping out the last few details for the decorating company. Sorelli wandered in and smiled at her.

"Having a good day?"

"I haven't broken down in tears once. It must be good." Christine agreed. Sorelli laughed and handed Christine her jacket. As they walked across the office, Christine looked around.

"Where's Meg got to?"

"She said she had an errand to run." Sorelli shrugged. "Come on, the others are waiting."

* * *

"One might almost think you had become a member of staff here, if you keep showing up like this." Erik commented wryly as Meg appeared at his elbow. She smiled brightly.

"I'm just here to do you a favour."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." She sat down in one of the theatre seats and eyed him. "I want to know what's going on with you. I mean… it's obvious that you love Christine. Otherwise you wouldn't have been quite so eager to help her out. She got her job back, by the way."

"So I've heard." Erik said, writing in a notebook.

"So, why aren't you back with her? You've been separated for nearly two weeks. Haven't you had enough time to think?" Meg demanded. Erik looked at her flatly.

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"It's not. But I'm not leaving until you tell me, even if you do get all huffy." She said lightly. Inside, however, she felt a little nervous. Erik Destler was an intimidating man and she was being rather… cheeky, really. But this was _ridiculous_, the way they were denying each other their presence.

Erik closed his notebook and turned to her, filling with resignation.

"Miss Giry, you are quite right. I do love Christine, I have had time to think and I am becoming, as you put it, huffy."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Meg asked. Erik settled back in his chair and rubbed his chin.

"To be perfectly honest, I wanted to make sure that she was settled in her job before trying to talk to her again."

"That's stupid." Meg said frankly. Erik glared at her and she shrugged. "Well, it is. She needed you more than ever these past few days. But _no_, you had to be Mr Aloof. Erik, she's still waiting. She'll always be waiting. But it isn't fair to _make_ her wait. So I suggest you get off your finely toned arse and go to see her."

He stared at her and she gave him a cheeky grin. Thoroughly flustered at the unexpected compliment, he cleared his throat.

"I… we'll see. I need to… yes."

"Am I making you feel awkward?"

"Incredibly so."

"Good." Meg said decisively, "It might inspire you to do something. She finishes at four-thirty today and she's not going to go for the whole flowers-and-chocolates gig either."

"How about some chilled wine?" Erik muttered. Meg shrugged, not getting the inside joke.

"Sure, if that's your thing. Just be honest with her, OK? Give her the truth, give her the wine and give her whatever she needs to pull herself back together." She told him. Erik looked at her closely for a moment.

"You're a good friend for her, Miss Giry."

"It's Meg. And yes, I am. But, then again, there are not many guys that would call their love's ex-husband in order to help them get their job back."

It took a moment for this to reach Erik's brain. He looked at her in astonishment and she smiled slightly.

"Don't worry, I won't tell her. In fact, I'd better be on my way." She got to her feet and he followed suit.

"Thank you… Meg."

"I'll see you at around four-thirty then." She said. Erik held up a hand.

"I didn't say that I-"

"Oh, please. We both know you'll be there." Meg said, a little cynically. Erik didn't reply but she smiled at him. "See you later."

Erik stared after her and then turned back to the stage, thinking furiously. _Could _he go to her today? Was it the right time?

Well, Erik thought wryly, there wasn't ever going to be a right time. What he had to do would never be easy. And the longer he waited, the worse it would get, the more unbearable it would become to stay away from her in the first place. God, he wanted to be with her right now! It was torturous, to have thoughts and memories of her in his mind. Her smell, her touch, the sensation of her skin on his, her hair against his cheek…

Erik glanced at the clock. One-thirty. He sighed heavily.

Only three hours to go.

* * *

"Where were you at lunchtime?" Christine asked as Meg appeared by the coffee machine at mid-afternoon.

"Oh, just doing a couple of things. How's work?"

"I can't believe how much of it piled up in just two days." Christine replied, stirring a sugar into her coffee. "I might stay a bit late just to finish it off in time for the weekend."

"No, you won't." Meg said sharply. "You're going to go out and celebrate your triumphant victory over Carlotta."

"Or I could finish this work and then enjoy my weekend." Christine pointed out. Meg scowled and pushed her shoulder.

"Then work _hard_ and finish at your usual time. You're not spending your Friday night working."

"Fine, I'll try and finish in time!" Christine laughed. "You really don't pass up an opportunity to celebrate, do you?"

"I live life to the full." Meg agreed with a smile.

Christine carried her coffee back to her office and took her seat at the computer, reaching for the telephone so she could update Nadir on her progress and organise a meeting. He picked up after just a couple of rings.

"Nadir Khan speaking."

"Hi Nadir, its Christine. I just wanted to sort out a meeting time to finalise plans for the opening night." With the opening of _Hannibal_ now just over a fortnight away, tensions were running high.

"Of course. Shall we say for first thing on Monday?"

"Excellent. The decorating people are willing to start at nine on the actual morning and spend the day doing everything. I contacted the caterers from last time, that's all sorted and the invitations are ready to be sent to you, so you can pass them on to your particular patrons." Christine said, trapping the phone between her ear and shoulder as she scribbled a memo.

"That's wonderful, Christine. I expect I'll see you this weekend at some point."

"Very probably." She smiled. "Bye."

With that sorted, she turned towards her final pile of editing. As it turned out, a lot of it just needed a quick glance through before being returned to their creators. Jammes caught up with her as she was returning to her office.

"Christine, can I organise a time to speak to you about the Lefevre project you put me on? I just wanted to show you what we've done so far, just to make sure you think it's alright." She asked hopefully. Christine smiled and nodded.

"Sure, no problem. Say, Monday afternoon?"

"Thanks, Christine."

Firmin was waiting in her office. Christine laughed dryly.

"I've had more people in this office today than the past two years here." She noted. Firmin chortled and settled into the chair opposite her desk.

"I was just going to say that Guidacelli Tech is sending their new envoy to us next Wednesday. I thought you might like to show him or her around."

"…You are, of course, joking." Christine commented. Firmin held up his hands, although he was secretly pleased at exactly how amiable she was being. He had to admit, he had expected a great deal of hostility from her – apparently though, she seemed to understand why he had done what he did. This didn't completely deplete Firmin's feelings of guilt, which he (at least in his mind) rightly deserved.

"No. I just thought you might like the opportunity to inspect this one thoroughly, so as to prevent any future problems." He said pointedly. Christine rolled her eyes.

"Fine, but if it all goes pear-shaped, I will be having words, Richard." She said, waggling a finger at him, good-humouredly. In truth, she felt that just about nothing could ruin her good mood right now. Firmin smiled and then glanced at his watch.

"Well, it's nearly time to go. Enjoy your weekend, Christine." He said.

"Shall do." She said absently, turning back to her computer to check her emails before leaving. There was only one, from Ubaldo Piangi, and a couple of junk mails. She deleted those quickly and turned the computer off. People were heading home, ready and full of anticipation of the weekend ahead. Some were making plans to meet that night, others were talking of their own arrangements. Christine listened through the open door, smiling at the simple humanity of it.

Maybe things weren't all great in her life. Yes, her heart still ached unbearably at the merest thought of Erik, yes she still wondered he was thinking of her, if he had chosen yet, if he ever would. She was still for a moment, contemplating that situation before shaking her head and putting her things away.

Not now. Not when she was so happy, would she consider that. For this day, for this weekend if possible, she wanted to be happy with what she had, to remember that she still had a great job, wonderful friends and a future.

Even if it wouldn't have Erik in it.

Meg and Sorelli materialised in her office door.

"Hey, you coming?" Sorelli demanded, carrying her jacket under one arm. Christine nodded and picked up her bag.

"Let's go. You coming back to Sorelli's, Meg?"

"Thought I might." Meg said. "We've got a few things to gossip about."

"Oh, really?" Christine smiled. "I can't wait, it sounds like wonderfully stimulating conversation."

They crossed the office floor, saying goodbyes to a few stragglers and went outside. They began to descend the steps and Christine turned to say something to Sorelli, but the words never made it from her lips. I'm sure you can guess why that might have been.

Erik was standing awkwardly nearby, tie removed in the warm weather and top button undone. Sorelli and Meg exchange a grin as Christine stared at him. He looked at her, his green eyes perfectly solemn.

"Erik." Christine said, a little blankly. "You're… here."

"I need to talk to you." He said. Christine glanced at Meg and Sorelli, who were both watching with big grins, and then looked back at Erik. They moved a little way off, much to the irritation of Meg and Sorelli, who had been counting on this event to provide the aforementioned gossip.

Erik looked down at her and was about to take her hand, but changed his mind. Too soon, perhaps, for that, although it took all of his self-control not to simply seize her, kiss her and then carry her away. Instead he swallowed hard and began to talk quietly, fixing his eyes on hers.

"Christine, you told me to make a choice. You said that… that I couldn't have both of you. I couldn't have both you and Anna. I understand why you said that. Anna was… she made me who I am, she gave me everything that I was led to believe that I could never have. She loved me and she accepted me for who I am, she looked at this face without shaking. And when she died, I thought that every chance of happiness had died with her. I don't think that you quite understand what you did for me, Christine."

Without meaning to, his hand lifted to touch her hair, capturing a few silken locks between his fingers as his eyes flew over her face.

"You gave me everything again. You gave me back my life, my happiness… you made me whole. You made me everything that I never got to be with her." He murmured. "I've said my goodbyes, I've gotten closure, and I've cut my ties with Anna. That part of me is over. Christine, I just want you back in my life, because it isn't a life without you in it. It's just… empty. I didn't even realise what you were to me until you weren't there anymore. I… I don't think I'm explaining this particularly well…" He stopped again, inwardly cursing himself for his lack of competence. Why was this so hard? It was so simple, what they wanted. Why couldn't he just say it? Why did he have to keep blabbering on and putting off what he really wanted to say?

Christine just listened, not saying a word. It was… astonishing, how incomprehensible he had become, how hard these words were for him. It was if he couldn't even think of the right words to say. He took a breath and carried on, fumbling over his words as he had done before, no sign of his usual elegant and precise speech.

"I don't know what else to say. I need you more than anything. More than music, or air, or light. I don't know if it's too late. Maybe it is." His hand lowered and his frown clenched painfully. "I… I don't know."

She had to speak. Had to say something. She had waited so long for this and he was just… all of the love she felt for him intensified in her chest, every feeling she had ever known was screaming for her to help him, to let him know that she wanted him too.

"Erik, why don't you just kiss me?" She said, suddenly. He stared at her.

"What?"

"You're supposed to be so intelligent and good with words and all that stuff. But you just come here, bumbling like an idiot and all I wanted you to do was kiss me. It's not that hard. I don't want a big romantic speech and I don't want you to explain how and why. I just want you to… kiss me" She said, feeling half-annoyed that she had to explain it and half-overjoyed that he was here and saying these things. How could someone so brilliant be so… _dense_?

But apparently, he wasn't as dense as he was acting because the next moment he had given in to his first instincts, pulled her close to him and kissed her before she had even a moment to react. But, when he did not release her, she slipped her arms around his neck, reaching up on tiptoe to make herself closer to him, savouring his touch and warmth. How had she denied herself this for so long? How had she _lived_ without this? It didn't seem feasible.

Eventually they separated, but did not pull away from each other. Erik was appalled to see that her eyes were watering. She noticed his worried glance and smiled helplessly, shaking her head.

"Happy tears. Really." She assured him. "I just…"

There were no words. She pushed her face into his chest and clung to his shirt, hardly able to believe that he had chosen her, that he was here, that he wanted her and that there was nothing in their way now. He was holding onto her just as tightly and she could hear his quick breaths in her ear.

"Ten out of ten for romantic reunion effort." Sorelli called to them and they both looked up.

"Definitely." Meg grinned. "I guess it's just you and me tonight, Sorelli. See you later, Christine."

They strolled off towards Sorelli's car, glancing back at the pair with large smiles and the occasional giggle. Christine bit her lip and looked up at Erik. He was watching her closely, gauging her reaction.

"I think I'd like to go home now. We need to talk." She whispered, with a tiny smile. A ghost smile touched Erik's mouth and he nodded.

"As you wish."

There were things to talk about, issues to discuss, a thousand and one topics that needed their attention.

But they could wait.

**A/N: Once again, I don't like this chapter. I mean, I like what goes on in it but I think I could have done it a lot better. Having said that, I went back to look at some older chapters today and whenever I've thought 'Hmm, that was a pretty good one' I've looked at the author's note and seen that I hated it at the time! Lol, so there you go.**

**Don't worry – there are still a few obstacles to go on this one. Angst all around.**

** EDIT: OK, so as I said, I REALLY wasn't happy with this chapter. So I've edited it, added bits and generally done it over. I've never been so dissatisfied with a chapter so as to go this far before, but there you go. I hope you prefer this version!  
**

**Lotsa luv**

**Katie**


	37. Proposal

**The Girl Next Door**

There is a time for words and a time for actions. When Christine and Erik returned to Gaston Place, less than half an hour later, they fully intended to use words.

But with just a glance, a kiss, a touch – actions took over.

Erik felt starved of her. As though the mere fortnight they had spent apart had depleted him, drained him away. And now she was here, responding to him in a way that only she could. He could feel her skin beneath him, her mouth against him, her scent and loved surrounding him completely. He simply could not get enough of her. She made him complete in so many ways.

With racing minds and aching hearts, the two were together again, the way they were intended to be. It was simple to see that this was how things should always have been. Their separation seemed almost ludicrous, Christine thought as they lay in Erik's bed, absolutely silent, contemplating what had just happened. There had been so many reasons for them to stay apart and yet it seemed ridiculous that they should have suffered all of that.

Erik's hand twined into her hair and she looked up at him. He looked… different. Peaceful, she decided, was the right term. Perfectly peaceful.

"I can't believe how much I missed you." She whispered. He smiled slightly, putting an arm about her waist to hold her closer to him.

"I don't believe it could be half as much as I missed you." he replied. "And, let me assure you, I don't intend to ever let you leave." Christine closed her eyes and couldn't help smiling.

"I'm so glad to hear it."

Comfortable silence reigned once more. It was only as the clock chimed, signalling the hour that Erik sat up.

"Tea?"

"Sounds good." She smiled. Erik pulled on his pyjama trousers and Christine took his dressing gown, slipping it over her bare shoulders. He watched her, unable to keep the smile from his lips. She returned it and then breathed deeply.

"I suppose… we need to talk."

"We do." Erik said quietly. Christine glanced at the wardrobe and chewed on her lip. Erik decided to take control of the situation.

"Tea first."

And so, with tea in hand, they sat on the sofa and talked.

"I wanted to come and find you so many times." Erik admitted. "I just wanted to bring you back here and never let you leave. But I hadn't sorted myself out yet and I knew that you would refuse. So… I went to see her. I took her things and I left them on her grave. I think she understood, if that is in any way logical. But when I had come back, I found that you were having difficulties at work. It didn't seem the best time to see you. I supposed that you'd want to sort that out before becoming involved again."

Christine smiled.

"Erik, you're supposed to be a genius, yet that was the stupidest thing you've ever done. I needed you more than ever these past few days."

"In which case, I can learn from the experience and grow as a person." He smirked. Christine smiled again and then readied herself.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For… for making you choose. I didn't… it wasn't my place to put you in that position." She said slowly. "I was so selfish…"

"I needed to move on. You merely helped me to do so." Erik said. "I needed that push, Christine. And I'm glad you were there to help me."

Christine shifted her legs so they were beneath her before asking,

"Was it… I mean… was it hard? To… see her?" She asked. It seemed a despicable thing to ask, to pry into the privacy of that sacred meeting of the two. Erik was silent for a moment.

"Yes. But it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. It was almost as if she were expecting me." He thought silently of that clean white grave, the flowers in the marble vase and the sun gleaming down on the earth that covered the woman he had loved so dearly. "I think she understands that I can't be alone. That I need you, now."

They were quiet again and then Erik reached for her again, drawing her into his arms as if never to let her go. Christine closed her eyes and tried to memorise the feeling of him. Inside she was thanking Anna, thanking the woman she had never met, never would meet, but who had deemed her worthy enough for Erik.

_I love him. You know that, don't you? You know that I love him and that he loves me. That we can be happy. Thank you. Thank you for letting him love me._

"No more nightmares?" She asked quietly. Erik shook his head.

"Not since I went to the cemetery." He murmured. Christine looked up at him.

"So… this is it? It's just us now?"

"Yes."

"No more being apart or being stupid about things?"

"No." Erik replied. "There's no reason anymore, Christine. There is no reason in the world why we shouldn't be happy at last."

* * *

Nadir rolled his eyes as Meg and Sorelli related the story to him that evening.

"And they were just standing there talking-"

"I wish I'd heard what they were saying…"

"And then they just kiss and hug and leave!" Meg said triumphantly. "And if it hadn't been for my constant meddling, it might never have happened."

Nadir smiled.

"I don't know about that. But I'm sure you helped. And I'll be glad to have a moderately cheerful director on Monday. _Hannibal_ is two weeks away and we need him in a good mood."

"He will be." Sorelli smiled. "They probably won't be able to separate themselves all weekend. They're probably at it right now."

"And I certainly didn't need that mental image, darling." Nadir said, wincing. Sorelli kissed his cheek.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you." She sat down and rubbed the small of her back. "Christ, this baby is going to kill me before it even arrives."

"Do you feel alright?" Nadir asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Don't panic." Sorelli grinned. Meg smiled.

"What a fussy daddy."

"Well… daddy might be a bit premature…" Nadir said, a little awkwardly. Sorelli smiled fondly at him.

"You know how it's going to work. This is my responsibility. You are not going to feel responsible for this kid."

Nadir kissed the top of her head.

"I'm afraid, Sorelli, I have no plans to go anywhere. You may just have to put up with me for a while yet."

"Somehow I'll manage." She replied. Meg laughed.

"Such a cute couple. Anyway, I'd better get on my way."

"Why don't you stay for dinner?"

"Love to, can't. Matt's coming over." She winked. "Catch you later."

She let herself out and Nadir began to prepare her some iced lemonade. Sorelli watched him and said quietly,

"It's true, you know. I don't want you to feel as though I'm keeping you here. This isn't your baby. You can leave whenever you want to." Nadir stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her. She was watching him with large, serious blue eyes. Her lovely face was in an expression of earnestness that he couldn't help loving. He crossed and knelt on the stone floor beside her chair, taking her hands in his. His dark, thoughtful face was perfectly serious.

"Sorelli, I love you. And," He put a hand on her stomach, "I love this baby. I don't want to leave you. And I never will."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." He said firmly. "I know because I can't picture a future without you in it, or without Tristan."

"He might be Sean."

"No, I prefer Tristan." Nadir smiled. Sorelli smiled and shook her head slowly.

"I just feel guilty sometimes."

"Don't. You have no need to. I will be this child's father. And I hope that one day we will have our own children as well."

Sorelli blinked.

"You do?"

"Yes. Sorelli, I want you to marry me. I was going to ask you after the baby was born and we had settled down. But I want to prove to you how much I want to be with you. So, there it is. I'm going to ask you to marry me." He said, his hands tightening around hers. Sorelli was silent, watching him in complete amazement. After a contemplative moment she said,

"When you ask me… I'll say yes."

"I'm glad that I know that in advance. It will make things much easier." He chuckled. Sorelli laughed and put her arms around him.

"This is crazy! We've only been going out for five months!"

"And we're already certain. That's proof enough for me." Nadir assured her. Sorelli smiled, kissed him and then lifted an eyebrow.

"I thought you were making me a drink?"

"Straight away, Madam."

As he turned away to fetch her lemonade, Sorelli hastily wiped her eyes, grinning with irrepressible happiness.

* * *

"What's that?" Christine asked from her position on the sofa. Erik looked up from the piano, his hands continuing to dance elegantly across the keys.

"_Chanson d'amour _by Fauré."

"It's lovely."

"I thought you might like it." He commented as the sweet music continued to rise from the piano. Christine got up, still clad in Erik's dressing gown, despite it being mid-afternoon on Saturday. She peered over his shoulder and followed the music.

"There are words. What do they mean?" The lyrics were in French. Erik smiled and began to translate them for her.

_I love your eyes, I love your forehead,_

_O my rebellious one, o my fiery one,_

_I love your eyes, I love your mouth_

_Where my kisses will exhaust themselves._

He glanced at her. She was following the lyrics as he continued to play

_I love your voice, I love the strange_

_Grace of everything you say,_

_O my rebellious one, o my dear angel,_

_My hell and my paradise!_

_I love everything that makes you beautiful,_

_From your feet to your hair,_

_O you, toward whom all my wishes rise up,_

_O my fierce one, my rebellious one!_

Christine was silent, slipping her arms around his shoulders to rest her chin on his head as he played.

"They remind me of you." Erik said. Christine smiled.

"Oh?"

"My rebellious angel, my hell and paradise… there's a certain affinity." Erik said, stopping his playing and half-turning in his seat to kiss her.

These past twenty-four hours that they had spent in each other's constant company had been purely and sweetly beautiful. Erik never ceased to be amazed at how _right_ it felt to wake up with this woman beside him, to go to sleep with her, to hold her, to make love to her, to play music for her enjoyment. How simply easy life had become, knowing that this was right. This was what God had intended for him. For Erik had no doubt now that God did exist. To grant him this precious second chance at love and to give Erik his sweetest Angel was no small thing. It was a miracle.

She was a miracle.

Christine smoothed his dark hair and then smiled softly.

"It's so strange. Just two days ago I thought that everything was over, that I had nothing left. And now I have you again." She said gently, running her fingers through the dark locks, adoring the silken sensation of it. Erik closed his eyes for a moment and then held himself as she took his mask and put it to one side, kissing his marred face.

"I missed this so much." She murmured between kisses. Erik looked at her.

"What?"

"This." She touched the red skin. "I love every part of you. Especially this. It makes you who you are. I love that you're not so afraid to let me see it anymore."

Erik couldn't understand how she felt that it could be a pleasure for her to see it. But she was happy and he would not take that from her. Not ever. He pulled her to him, so she was sat in his lap, the dressing gown slipping slightly from her shoulders. Erik's mouth went to her neck and Christine's eyes slid closed. He touched his lips to hers once more and she welcomed his touch.

Had the earth trembled, the stars fallen, the seas boiled or the sky been ablaze, they would have not noticed a thing but each other.

* * *

"_For Mercy has a human heart,_

_Pity a human face_

_And Love the human form divine,_

_And Peace the human dress_." Erik read aloud from the book. Christine smiled from her position in his arms as they lay in bed on a blissfully warm Sunday morning.

"See? Blake could write cheerful things as well."

"I'm not denying that he did." Erik commented. "But the majority of his pieces seem to be rather pessimistic."

"And some of them are perfect." She took the book from his hands and flipped through until she found one. "Here – I swear that this is you."

"'The Tyger'? I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment." Erik said dryly. Christine laughed and read,

"_When the stars threw down their spears,_

_And watered Heaven with their tears,_

_Did he smile his work to see?_

_Did he who made the lamb make thee?_" She looked up at him. "It's you."

"I don't see it, personally." Erik said. Christine tapped the page.

"How can you not see it? Who else but you could disarm the stars? And here… God smiling to see his creation. After you started to believe in him, he was proud of you. Proud of all you've overcome and how you managed to be such a wonderful person, the one you are today." She said. Erik smirked.

"I think you need to eat something. You've become delirious with hunger." She dug her elbow into his ribs but his strong arms went around her, holding her in place. She giggled and relented.

"Fine. But I still think it's you."

"I'm a tiger and an angel at the same time?"

"Maybe you have stripy wings." She teased. Erik smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple as she began to read some of the poems. The pages fell upon to 'The Angel', as though it had been turned to that page more than any other. They both smiled as the familiar words flowed through their minds. Christine put her hand over the last stanza, where the Angel tried to return to the woman, only to find she was too far from his reach to save again.

"I don't like that bit."

"You should appreciate it. That's what might have been, if your stripy-winged angel hadn't appeared in time." Erik told her. Christine grinned.

"Maybe we should rewrite that part."

"I think William Blake might object to that."

"Maybe. But he is dead."

"It would be rather unjust to his memory to change his work because we feel inclined." Erik pointed out. Christine sighed.

"I suppose. We'll just have to pretend it has a happy ending."

"It does." He kissed her again.

Christine closed the book and shut her eyes, drawing the covers up over them. Erik stroked her soft (albeit slightly frizzy) hair as she lay peacefully in his arms.

He knew what he wanted to say. He knew what he wanted for the rest of his life. He wanted her.

"Christine?" He said softly.

"Hmm?" She made the noise but didn't open her eyes, although there was still a smile playing about her mouth.

"Will you marry me?"

His heart began to race and he was glad he was lying, for he felt sure that his legs would not have supported him as she sat up and looked down at him, her face an expression of pure shock.

"What?"

"Will you marry me?" The words seemed even more bizarre on repetition. He kept his eyes on hers and kept his expression solemn. She continued to stare at him. Erik reached over and took one of her hands in both of his.

"Christine, I-"

"No."

**A/N: You may not believe this, but I am actually happy with this chapter. Try not to have heart attacks, OK? Lol, I don't know what it is but I really do like this chapter. Hmm, strange thing. Sorry for the wait – I had a 2,500 word essay to write for Religious Studies. I have an English one to do and a Health and Social Care Unit to complete. But I was determined to finish this chapter. And I'm sorry for the God-awful cliff-hanger. But, hey, they were happy for almost an entire chapter! Credit for that please! And for having very nearly, almost, sort, not-quite sexy-type bits. Maybe it's because I haven't written any smoochy scenes in a while but this seemed a bit more intense than my usual stuff. **

**As you may remember, I was NOT happy with the last chapter. Although most of you assured me that it was fine, I actually went back and edited it. It's got more bits in it and generally had a good going-over. So enjoy that too!**

**This chapter is lovingly dedicated to Gondolier who provided me with the lyrics to 'Chanson d'amour', which I highly recommend you listen to. Fauré writes music that is simply gorgeous. I'm addicted to him!**

**Anywho, leave a review and feed an Official Review Whore's addiction.**

**Lotsa luv**

**Katie**


	38. My Life With You

**The Girl Next Door**

Erik just looked at her, unable to process her reply. She watched him with sad, dark eyes and a quivering lip which she bit on to stop it.

"Erik, I can't…. don't… anything. I'll give you anything that you ask of me, but I can't do that."

He sat up and put his hands on her shoulders. He was shocked to feel her trembling.

"Christine…"

"I can't…" Her voice broke as her eyes filled with forced-back tears. Erik cupped her cheek.

"It's alright." He kissed her forehead, cursing himself for causing her this distress.

"I'm sorry, Erik, but…" She took a deep breath. "I don't want to get married, not again. I know that it would be different with you but I just think about everything that I did wrong last time and I couldn't bear to put you through that or have to go through it again myself."

She met his eyes at last.

"I'll give you my life, my heart, my body, anything you want. But I won't marry you. You can have everything from me. But not that."

"It alright." He repeated, pulling her into his arms. "Don't explain. You don't need to."

They clung together, silent other than Christine's laboured breathing.

"I love you." She said suddenly.

"I know."

"You have to know. I'm not saying it because… because I want to hurt you, or because it's what I think is right. I'm saying it because I'm so happy and I'm scared that things will go wrong."

Erik didn't reply. Instead, he kissed her. For one, it seemed the only way to stop her from talking and for another, it was the only thing to show her that it truly didn't matter.

* * *

"I don't believe you." Meg said on Monday morning as she looked in on Christine, who was sat at her desk with a cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant. "You and Erik are back together and you haven't instantly come to gossip with me and Sorelli? What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Fine, thank you for asking. And how was your weekend?" Christine muttered, sipping her coffee as she logged onto the computer. Meg crossed her arms.

"C'mon. Spill the details."

"I am very much not in the mood." Christine replied. Meg frowned and moved into the office, closing the door.

"You and Erik _are_ back together, right? Because I worked way too hard for you to mess it up now."

"_You _worked hard? Yes, we are together."

"And this is making you miserable? God, there's no making you happy." Meg said, sitting down opposite her. Christine glared at her briefly before biting into her croissant. Meg watched her closely before saying in a quiet voice,

"What happened?"

Christine picked a flake of pastry from her croissant and crumbled it between her fingers.

"…He asked me to marry him, Meg." She said softly. Meg's jaw dropped but Christine carried on before she could speak. "I said no."

Her next phrase was one that cannot be repeated as Meg threw a pencil eraser at her head. It hit her directly in the eye and Christine glowered at her friend as she rubbed her eye.

"Meg!"

"You stupid woman!" Meg said in an incredulous voice. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Meg, you don't understand!"

"Oh, I understand perfectly. _I can't marry you Erik, cos Raoul was a bastard, and I screw up and heaven forbid that I should actually let myself be happy for once in my goddamn life!_" Meg said in a high-pitched voice. Christine scowled.

"I don't sound anything like that! And stop pretending that you understand, because you don't."

"No? This isn't because you're terrified that it'll go the same way as it did with Raoul? Well, I hate to break it to you and destroy your lovely little delusion, but Erik is not Raoul. What you have with Erik is so different from Raoul that you actually have no reason to say no, other than you're still afraid." Meg stood up, fuming. "Three words, Chris – Get. Over. It."

And with that she stormed from the office. Christine gaped after her and a small voice in her head tried to reason that Meg was all wrong.

Except she wasn't.

* * *

Erik paced the stage at lunchtime. The actors were all off, as were the stagehands. He was alone. He rubbed his chin as he examined the set. The backdrop was for _Hannibal_ and he paused to examine the details. But his mind was actually miles away.

He knew why she had said it. He knew he probably shouldn't have asked. And yet, some small part of him, for just the briefest of moments, had thought that she would say yes.

"Erik, do you even understand the basic principles of what 'lunch break' means?" Nadir said dryly. Erik turned to look at the dark skinned man who was standing in the doorway.

"I'm not hungry."

"It doesn't just mean food. It means getting away from work for half an hour." Nadir commented, moving up the aisle to the stage. "

"There's too much to do. Where you listening to Eleanor this morning? It was a nightmare. If I have to hear her desecrate _Think of Me_ one more time…"

"I heard about you and Christine." Nadir said casually. Erik looked at him.

"What, exactly, did you hear?"

"That everything's sorted out."

"And it is. So there's no need to discuss it further." Erik finished dryly, still pacing the stage as he examined the fine details of the set. Nadir just carried on smiling. He picked up a stray copy of the score and perused it absently. Erik glanced at him and frowned. Why was he _smiling_ in that incessant fashion?

"You're happy."

"Am I not allowed to be?" Nadir asked innocently. Erik raised his eyes and Nadir laughed, closing the score. "Yes, Erik, I am happy."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Erik ground his teeth but Nadir grinned at him.

"I asked Sorelli to marry me." He announced. Erik froze but Nadir didn't appear to notice. "Well, I told her that I was planning to ask her and she said that when I _did_ ask her, she would say yes. But that's as good as having it confirmed, wouldn't you say?"

"Nadir, whilst I couldn't be happier for you, you are perfectly aware of my feelings towards gossip."

"This is hardly gossip, Erik. But thank you for your support." Nadir said, still smiling inanely. Erik offered a miniscule smile and then stepped agilely down from the stage.

"I suppose it's your noble attitude that compels you to give her child a father?"

"That and the fact that I'm very much in love with her. That plays a small part as well." Nadir added. Erik lifted an eyebrow and turned to see Raoul de Chagny entering the room. Nadir noticed him a second later.

"Mr de Chagny, what can I do for you?" He asked. Raoul smiled cheerfully at him.

"Just coming to see how many tickets I can reserve for _Hannibal_. My brother's bringing his fiancée and I've got a friend coming. I'm glad that you haven't sold out yet."

"No, but I suspect you're here just in time." Nadir said. Erik was silent, watching as the pair left the room, avidly discussing the approaching opera.

Raoul hadn't even spoken to him, had barely glanced at him and yet Erik felt an irrepressible hatred for the handsome young man. Hatred for having everything that he could not have. For being able to walk in public without being stared at and pointed. For being able to laugh and love all the simplicities of life.

For having had Christine as a wife.

Erik hated that this man, in all of his innocent, good-natured existence had failed to appreciate the true preciousness of what he had possessed. And in doing so, he had taken away Erik's hopes of having it.

* * *

Christine was home first. Cat was waiting by the door as though his routine had never been altered. They went upstairs together and Christine made tea, as well as pouring some milk for Cat, who lapped at it delicately and watched her intensely until she stopped to pay him some attention. Which, in his mind at least, he rightly deserved, being a cat.

Christine smiled and scooped him up into a hug as she contemplated her day. She and Meg had sort of made up. Well, they were talking at least, after Christine pointed out to Meg that she had to work this out by herself and whilst she was gratefully for Meg's help, she would be better of without it.

And then she'd bought Meg a muffin and all was well with the world.

"Christine?" She turned at the sound of Erik's voice. He removed his coat and smiled as she came out of the kitchen, Cat now perched about her shoulders. She handed him a cup of tea and said,

"How was your day?"

"Not bad. Tensions are running high." Erik replied.

"I'm not surprised." Erik didn't answer. Instead he kissed her. She blinked and then smiled.

"What was that for?"

"Because I love you." He replied frankly, turning to put his tea down and leaving Christine with a smile on her face.

Cat leapt down and stalked along the sofa to sit on the arm, where he could see everything that was going on. Erik turned to Christine again and said,

"I'll make dinner tonight."

"Would you? I wanted to finish some work off."

"Of course. And then I thought we might indulge in some music. It has been too long sine I heard you sing and I doubt that you've been practising." Erik said. Christine had to admit that she hadn't. She disappeared into the office whilst Erik used her kitchen to prepare chicken chasseur. Cat sat on the table, watching as he sliced chicken and keeping a careful eye for any stray pieces of food.

Erik began to slice mushrooms and thought about their current arrangement. It wasn't ideal. Living in separate apartments, even if they were together the majority of the time was rather inconvenient. Perhaps, eventually, they would move out and buy another home. A house, maybe, instead of an apartment. Even if marriage wasn't on the agenda, did Christine want children one day? That wasn't something that Erik particularly envisioned in their future. What would his children look like? There was the possibility that his offspring would be… well, it was hardly ideal. What future could he provide for Christine? He wasn't fantastically wealthy, not to the extremes of the de Chagny fortune, although he was very comfortable in his intake.

Did Christine wonder about these things too? Erik wondered that as he cooked the chicken. It was all so big and complicated. Plan an opera, and Erik was your man. Plan a future – not so much. All hew knew was that he did not have a future if it did not include Christine. She had offered him her life, her body and her heart and he intended to take all three.

"What are you thinking?" Christine's sweet voice came from the kitchen door. She was watching him with a small smile on her mouth. Erik glanced at her.

"I thought you were working."

"I have been, for the past half hour. I've finished. What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about what happened yesterday." He said. Christine's smile faded but Erik continued, "And I think it important that you know that I don't mind. And that the offer still stands. And that it always will."

She looked at him and then smiled.

"Anything I can do to help with dinner?" She said. Erik smiled back at her.

"The potatoes."

She moved past to fetch water for them and Erik was vaguely aware that his adoration for this woman had intensified tenfold just by seeing her in the doorway.

* * *

At a quarter past ten on Wednesday morning Christine received a message from Firmin's secretary, requesting her presence in his office. She knew at once what it was about. The new representative of Guidacelli Tech had arrived.

Filled with trepidation, Christine crossed the room to knock at Firmin's door. He called for her to enter and she pushed open the door. Firmin beamed at her.

"There you are. I'd like to introduce Sophia Hart, from GT. Sophia, this is Christine Daae."

"I've heard a lot about you." Sophia said, standing to shake Christine's hand with a smile. She was a tall, proud-looking black woman, dressed fantastically and with her hair pulled back from her face in intricate braids. Christine smiled.

"I doubt anything that you've heard is good."

"Miss Guidacelli hasn't exactly been pleasant about you, but I try not to prejudge people I'll be working with." Sophia said warmly. "I'll look forward to getting to know you."

"Ditto." Christine said. She was already warming to Sophia. She looked to be a no-nonsense sort of person. Firmin glanced at his watch.

"It looks to be about time for all the employees to take an unauthorised coffee break. Why don't you two go and beat them to the coffee?"

The two women stood and left the office, going to the coffee. Christine poured them both and cup and then smiled, almost nervously at Sophia.

"So…"

"Hmm." Sophia smiled and then said, "I have to ask. Did you really call Carlotta a spoiled bitch?"

"Yes." Christine admitted. "But there were circumstances."

"I'll believe that." Sophia laughed quietly. "I'd rather not get into any fights, if it's all the same to you, though."

"That'd be great." Christine agreed. "How long have you been working at Guidacelli Tech?"

"Around six years. I had a child and I wanted to start working again, so I applied there."

"Boy or girl?"

"A girl, Bianca." Sophia took out her purse and held out a picture. "She's five now. Gorgeous girl, my husband takes care of her during the day and he works night shifts at the hospital."

Christine looked at the photograph. It portrayed an adorable little girl, smiling with pearly white teeth.

"She's lovely." She said, handing the picture back, "Sorelli's pregnant, she's one of the women here. She'll be going on maternity leave in two weeks."

"Who will?" Meg said, appearing by the coffee and pouring some. She caught sight of Sophia and grinned. "Hey, you must be Carlotta's replacement. Glad to have you onboard."

"We were talking about Sorelli." Christine added. Meg smiled.

"Oh, yes. It's a good job she's going, you know, she looks like she's going to pop any minute."

The conversation struck up between Sophia and Meg. Christine listened, smiling. In all honesty, she felt very relieved. Sophia didn't look like she'd be the sort of person who would cause problems. In fact, she looked like someone Christine would enjoy working with. She took a sip of her coffee, feeling rather relaxed, which made a wonderful change.

* * *

Christine made dinner that night. Deciding that a stir-fry would be easiest, she began slicing peppers and meat, whilst Erik sat at the piano and wrote music. Every now and again she would hear him playing bursts of music, bittersweet at times, joyous and beautiful at others. The music encircled her as she cooked and she vaguely wondered what it was. Whilst the food cooked, she opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, putting them on the island counter in Erik's kitchen along with two plates and some cutlery. The delicious smell was making her stomach rumble and she munched on a piece of celery as she cooked.

She served up the food and went into the living room. Cat was sat on top of the piano, watching Erik with curious eyes. She smiled at them both.

"Dinner's ready, if you're finished?"

Erik looked at her, smiled and slipped the piece of sheet music into its rightful place in the folder, surrounded by costume and set designs. For a moment his hand lingered over the cover of the folder, where the words _Don Juan Triumphant_ were imprinted.

"Yes," He said softly. "Yes, I'm finished."

**A/N: Sorry about the wait. A semi-writer's block combined with a cold and lots of schoolwork, as well as a party and work equals not writing very much. But the next two chapters are nicely planned out to bring the story to a close at Chapter 40.**

**Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews; you really wouldn't believe how much they cheer me up. Not to mention how many of them there are! Over one thousand, five hundred? Are you guys SERIOUS?**

**This chapter is dedicated to two people who left me such wonderful reviews that I can't do anything but dedicate: Nade-Naberrie and Morrigan the Nightmare Queen for the two longest reviews in the history of ever.**

**Love and appreciation**

**Katie**


	39. A Miracle In His Hands

**The Girl Next Door**

"Christine, thank God I found you!" Sorelli said desperately. Christine looked up from the sheet she had just printed off.

"What's wrong?"

"I think the baby grew by eight inches overnight, my new dress for the opening night doesn't fit!" Sorelli wailed. Christine blinked and patted her shoulder.

"Calm down. The opening night isn't until tomorrow; we'll just take the dress back and get you one in a bigger size, OK?"

"What if they don't have a bigger size? I've already bought shoes and accessories for _that_ dress." Sorelli said mournfully. Christine smiled.

"We'll work something out. Don't worry. It's not the end of the world."

Sorelli leant on the surface, trying to convince herself that everything would be alright.

"What are you wearing?" She asked suddenly.

"I was thinking about clothes." Christine said, still examining her print. Sorelli rolled her eyes.

"Helpful, Christine."

"I'm not sure yet. I wore the dark one to _Il Muto_ here, my blue one to the French _Il Muto_, my green one to the _Heaven and Hell _concert and that leaves me with the ivory one."

"When was the last time that you wore that one?"

"Some work party of Stuart's." Christine replied absently. Sorelli grinned.

"In which case, you can come and get a new dress with me tonight." She said decisively. Christine shrugged.

"Fine. Whatever. I need to go and call the caterers for the Hawthorn; there's been a problem with the bookings." Christine hurried back to her office and Sorelli shrugged. She _really_ needed to learn how to relax.

* * *

Erik paced back and forwards in Christine's apartment on Friday night, straightening his tie, adjusting his mask and picking stray cat hairs off of his suit. Cat flicked his tail as he watched the anxious man preparing. Erik lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Don't look at me like that. If you didn't get hair everywhere, there wouldn't be a problem." Cat gave him a suitably dismissive look and stalked into the kitchen to eat the leftovers of his dinner. Erik glanced at his watch.

"Christine, I'm going without you."

"No, you're not." She called from the bedroom. "I'm nearly ready."

"You said that ten minutes ago." He reminded her.

"It was eight minutes, actually. So hold your horses."

Finally Christine emerged and Erik was forced to admit that she looked worth the wait. Clad in a red satin dress, her hair in a knot of curls at the back of her head and the rose crystal necklace he had gotten her for her birthday around her neck, she looked nothing short of goddess-like. She eyed him approvingly.

"Very nice. Well? Are we going?"

"If you weren't quite so beautiful, I could easily get very annoyed with you." Erik said dryly, handing her a coat. She smiled charmingly at him and kissed his cheek.

"Come on, maestro. Your public awaits the triumphant opening of _Hannibal_."

* * *

"I honestly don't know what you were worrying about, Erik, Eleanor sang _Think of Me_ perfectly." Christine said at the party after the opera. He lifted an eyebrow.

"There's a first time for everything, I suppose."

"Don't be so cynical. It was a fantastic opera."

"Hear, hear." Nadir said, joining them with one arm around Sorelli. "It was marvellous, Erik."

Erik smiled briefly, taking two glasses of wine from a passing tray and handing one to Christine. He couldn't deny that the evening had been a totally success. Everything had gone flawlessly and had been so well accepted that Nadir had already fended off several telephone calls to ask for right sot perform it around the country.

"I agree that the hard work has paid off." He said. "And with _Hannibal_ set to run for another six months, I'll finally have some time to relax."

"You should be so lucky. Everyone has been asking me what your next project is going to be." Nadir told him. "What shall I say?"

"Tell them the matter is undecided. It's the truth anyway." Erik commented.

"But what _are_ you going to work on?" Sorelli asked. "Another opera?"

"There are a great many classical operas that I haven't yet indulged in. There isn't an urgency to create original ones when there are so many already waiting to be performed." Erik pointed out.

"And what about _Don Juan Triumphant_?" Nadir asked, with a knowing smile. "I don't suppose there's a chance of the Hawthorn getting its hands on that particular piece?"

"Absolutely not." Erik said firmly. Christine smiled, lacing her fingers through his as she sipped her wine. So stubborn…

"Well, Erik, you had better start meeting and greeting people. I've got a few introductions for you. I'll let you two gossip for a while." Nadir said, releasing Sorelli. He and Erik walked off, Erik looking extremely reluctant. Christine smiled after him.

"He hates this part."

"I hate to admit it, but you two make an incredibly hot couple." Sorelli said.

"That must make you and Nadir the sweetest couple." Christine pointed out. Sorelli smiled and tossed her hair.

"That goes without saying! Oh…" She glared down at her stomach. "Stop kicking!"

"Lively little fellow, isn't he?" Christine smiled. Sorelli rolled her eyes.

"I can't wait until he's born and I can start getting a full night's sleep again. I'm up every half hour to go to the toilet and the times when I don't need to pee, he's kicking me constantly!"

"Attention-seeker, I see."

"There you are!" They turned and saw Meg walking towards them with a beaming face. Christine had asked Erik to get her a ticket for the opening, as she had expressed an interest in seeing _Hannibal_. She hadn't been able to convince Matt to go though. As crazy as he was about Meg, that adoration apparently didn't stretch so far as to go to an opera with her. Not that Meg seemed to mind all that much, the last thing she'd wanted was a drooling boyfriend on her shoulder.

"Wasn't it brilliant?" She said. "I really enjoyed it!"

"Erik will be delighted." Christine grinned. Meg eyed her and she shrugged. "Fine, he'll probably just nod and change the subject, but I'm sure he'll be happy on the inside."

They all laughed and Sorelli finished off her soft drink, placing the cup down as Meg took some wine. Christine was about to comment on a particular scene in the opera when a horribly familiar voice sounded nearby. She, Meg and Sorelli turned to see Carlotta with her parents, talking with some of the patrons. Carlotta caught sight of them and a momentary look of absolute fury crossed her face. Mr Guidacelli caught her expression and looked over curiously. Meg waved cheerfully and he smiled, walking over to greet them to the apoplectic fury of his daughter.

"Miss Giry, how delightful to meet you again."

"Same to you, Mr Guidacelli. This is Sorelli Tindra and Christine Daae. They're Populaires as well." Meg said. They all shook hands and Mr Guidacelli looked at Meg.

"Tell me, how is Sophia Hart settling in?"

"She's fantastic, such a nice person. And she's really good at her job as well." Meg said. Mr Guidacelli smiled.

"Excellent. I'm glad that she has someone like you to look after her. Excuse me." He returned to his wife and daughter. Carlotta threw Christine a look of pure filth and turned away. Christine just smiled.

Some time later, Nadir and Erik returned to them and the discussion turned swiftly to the inevitable success of _Hannibal_ as they all descended to the bar beneath the Hawthorn.

"Just wait until the reviews come out tomorrow." Meg said. "Every show is going to be fully booked out; everyone's dying to see a Destler Original."

"I wasn't aware they came with titles now." Erik commented lightly. Christine smiled and looked at him proudly.

"I don't know how you do it. Everything you produce just seems to be perfect."

"Perfection is easiest when one has such an inspiring muse." Erik said quietly, bringing her hand to his lips. She blushed and Meg whistled.

"What a smooth-talker."

"How comes you never say anything like that to me?" Sorelli said teasingly to Nadir, who shrugged.

"Because I'm not as mysterious and dramatic as Erik."

Sorelli laughed and then stood.

"Excuse me. Nature calls, yet again."

"Hold on, I need to go as well." Christine said. Meg winked at them both.

"Unwise move, leaving me alone with two hot guys like this."

"Meg, no more alcohol for you." Christine said with a grin. She and Sorelli walked to the bathroom. Whilst Sorelli was still in the cubicle, Christine began to pin a loose curl back into place as they chatted.

"I really do wish Erik wouldn't be quite so charming in public." She commented.

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me paranoid! If he carries on like that he's going to have every woman in a ten mile radius throwing themselves at him.

"They wouldn't stand a chance, Christine." Sorelli said, flushing the toilet and emerging. "I've seen how he looks at you, he's crazy about you."

She paused and rubbed her stomach, frowning. Christine glanced at her.

"Is everything alright?"

"Hmm, probably just something I ate. I keep getting heartburn too. I'm going to lay off the red meat for a while." She said, washing her hands and then pausing to massage her stomach again. Christine stared at her.

"Sorelli?"

"Yes?"

"Are you in labour?" Sorelli turned and stared at her.

"What? No! No, I can't be, the baby isn't due for another month!"

"Remember what it said in that baby book? Heartburn, your stomach is playing up… Sorelli, you'd better get to the hospital."

"But my water hasn't even broken." Sorelli pointed out. Christine put her hands on her hips.

"Did you read any of those books we got you? Sometimes the water doesn't break until very late in the labour. Come on, we're taking you to the hospital."

She took Sorelli's hand and pulled her back out into the bar. The three waiting for them looked up in surprise.

"Is something wrong?" Erik asked. Christine lifted an eyebrow.

"Sorelli's going into labour."

"What!" Nadir said, jumping to his feet. Sorelli rolled her eyes.

"I am not in labour."

"She's got an upset stomach and is suffering from what feels like heartburn. These are classic signs of a woman who's going into labour. We're going to the hospital."

"Christine, we are not- Ooh!" Sorelli jumped and clutched her stomach. They all stared at her and she laughed weakly. "OK, maybe the hospital isn't such a bad idea."

* * *

"How can you possibly not notice that you're going into labour?" Meg said as she, Christine and Erik sat in the waiting room whilst Nadir went with Sorelli to get settled in her room.

"According to the book, even experienced mothers can mistake the symptoms for something else." Christine said knowledgably. Meg looked at her blankly and she threw hands up in despair. "Was I the only person who read those books?"

"Apparently." Erik commented.

"I hope the baby'll be OK. It's a month early." Meg said anxiously. Christine rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"We're in the best place. Even if the baby isn't ready, they'll be able to take care of him here."

It was about half an hour later when Nadir appeared.

"They're making her comfortable. The contractions are getting a little stronger now. But it looks like we'll be here for a good while yet."

"Are you staying with her?"

"Of course. You might as well go home; I'll call you if anything happens." Nadir suggested. Meg glanced at her watch and whistled.

"I think I might just follow your advice, actually. Typical Sorelli to do something interesting just as we're all knackered. You promise to call though?"

"Absolutely." Nadir smiled. Erik stood.

"Do you want me to fetch anything?"

"Sorelli had an emergency bag packed, with some things that she wanted to bring here with her. Obviously she didn't expect to start labour this soon so she didn't bring it with her to the Hawthorn. It's at her house."

"We'll take Meg home, go to Sorelli's, bring the bag here and then go and get some sleep." Christine suggested.

They all agreed that this was the best course of action and departed. It took nearly an hour to go to Meg's, to Sorelli's and then back to the hospital. Erik waited in the car whilst Christine carried the bag inside. After asking a nurse for directions, Christine found room 666.

"Loving the door number." She commented as she went inside. Sorelli rolled her eyes.

"I know. I'm not giving birth to the spawn of Satan. Well, actually, having met Steven…"

Christine smiled and put the bag on the end of the bed.

"Here you go."

"Thanks, Chris." Sorelli said. Nadir smiled at her.

"I'll call you if anything happens."

"We've probably got ages. Did you know that the average pregnancy for a first time mother is seventeen hours?" Sorelli said. Christine stared at her and she grinned. "Yes, I did read _some_ of the books!"

* * *

"I believe that the idea of us actually coming home was so we could sleep." Erik said dryly as Christine fidgeted in the bed beside him. She sat up and turned on the light.

"I know. But… it's just so amazing!"

"What is?"

"Sorelli. She's bringing life into the world; she's making a human being. How amazing is that?" Christine said, smiling widely. Erik smiled too. A little less widely.

"Maybe I'll believe it more in the morning."

"Sorry. It's been a long night." Christine said sympathetically. Erik sat up as well.

"Are you sure that you wouldn't rather just go back to the hospital?"

"No, there's no point. Besides, I'd probably just fall asleep as soon as we got there."

She put her head on his shoulder and sighed happily.

"It's been one hell of a night. _Hannibal_ was incredible. I can't wait to see what you come out with next." She said dreamily. Erik smiled slightly, stroking her hair. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he spoke.

"…I've finished _Don Juan Triumphant_."

"What?" She looked up and smiled brightly. "Erik, that's wonderful! Are you going to put it on?"

"No."

His abrupt answer halted her momentarily. She examined his face and touched the marred skin.

"It's alright." She murmured. He held her gaze for a moment and then turned off the light, lying back down and drawing her into his hold.

They were asleep before long.

* * *

"Do I bloody _look_ alright?" Sorelli snapped the next morning. Christine stepped back into Erik. He let out a grunt as she trod on his foot and scowled. Sorelli glared at them both and let her head fall back onto the pillow with an exhausted groan. Nadir stroked her hand.

"We'll let you get a couple of minutes rest." He said soothingly, going to the door and beckoning to Erik, Christine and Meg.

Once outside the room, he turned to them with a tired face.

"It shouldn't be too much longer. Maybe another couple of hours… but she's so tired."

"So are you. Why don't you get some sleep?" Meg suggested. Nadir laughed quietly.

"I'd love to. But I can't leave her now."

"Then at least go and get some coffee. Erik, take Nadir to the cafeteria, will you?" Christine said, looking at him. He nodded but Nadir looked uncertain.

"I'm not sure…"

"Christine and I can handle the crazy pregnant lady for half an hour." Meg said firmly, pushing them both. Once they had disappeared, she rolled her eyes at Christine as they went back into room 666. Sorelli looked at them both, frowning.

"Where's Nadir?"

"We sent him to get some coffee with Erik. The poor guy looks dead on his feet."

"_He's_ not the one squeezing a human being out of his-"

"I'll give you ten pounds not to finish that sentence." Christine interrupted. Sorelli smiled and then moaned, fidgeting on the bed.

"God, I have never felt so crap in my life…"

"On the positive side, you look fabulous." Meg said and then frowned. "How is that in any way fair? You're in labour and you still look great."

"It takes the edge off it at least." Sorelli shrugged. She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm so tired…"

"Nadir said it probably won't be much longer." Christine said sympathetically. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No. Just wait with me. Although, it's not as bad as they make it look on TV. All that wailing and screaming. Sure, it hurts, but not that much. They're just a bunch of cry-babies." She stretched her arms and then closed her eyes again.

They were quiet for a moment before she sat up again, grunting and moaning. A whimper escaped. Meg and Christine exchanged panicked looks.

"Are you…?" Meg began but Sorelli took a deep breath and then leant back.

"Just a contraction." She said as the door opened and Doctor Yoshida came. She smiled briefly at Meg and Christine.

"Hello there. Miss Tindra, let's see how you're doing…"

Christine smoothed Sorelli's hair back and Meg fluffed the pillows as the doctor carried out her examination.

"Well, you're very nearly there. I'll come back in half an hour and you should be ready to go to the delivery room by then." Doctor Yoshida said calmly. She smiled at Meg and Christine. "Try not to tire her out."

"Like it'd make a difference. I'm shattered." Sorelli muttered. Doctor Yoshida smiled and left the room, making a note on her clipboard.

"Are you excited? About getting to finally see Tristan?" Meg said, clasping Sorelli's hand. She smiled.

"Yeah. It feels so weird. Like I know him already."

"Well, you did just spend eight months together." Christine pointed out. Sorelli nodded.

"I know, but still… it's as if I already know exactly who he is and who he's going to be. Does that make sense?"

"Of course not. You don't even make sense when you've _had_ a full night's sleep and _aren't_ giving birth." Meg said comfortingly. Sorelli glared at her and was about to make a scathing reply when she started to have another contraction. And since Meg was still holding her hand, revenge was had most sweetly indeed.

* * *

Tristan Michael Tindra was born at 10:42 AM on Saturday 16th September.

Sorelli and Nadir had decided that once they had married, Tristan's name would be changed, with Sorelli's to Khan. But for now, they remained as they were.

Christine, Erik and Meg were finally allowed to see Mother, Father and Son approximately an hour later, once Tristan had been cleaned up and they had returned to the room. Sorelli, looking positively radiant, beamed at them as they came in quietly. Nadir, who was sat on the bed beside her, was holding the tiny creature in his arms.

"Absolutely healthy. A little small because he's early but… but healthy." Sorelli whispered. Meg bent over Tristan and cooed.

"Oh my gosh, aren't you just the cutest little guy _ever_?"

"Do you really have to talk like that?" Erik wanted to know. She pulled a face at him and then looked at Nadir.

"Can I hold him?"

He manoeuvred Tristan into Meg's arms. The baby didn't make a sound, he was sleeping peacefully. He had a few tiny tufts of dark hair on his scalp and his miniature face was slightly red and chubby-cheeked. Meg smiled down at him.

"Hey, Tristan. I'm your Auntie Meg. You like me the best, because I'm great. You really do." She paused. "You're the luckiest little guy in the world, you know."

Sorelli watched proudly as her son was passed onto Christine. She stood next to Erik and admired the miniscule individual in her arms. For a moment she didn't speak. And then Tristan's eyes opened blearily, tiny blue eyes that peered up at her. Christine gently smoothed his hair and smiled.

"Hi Tristan. I'm Auntie Christine. Forget everything that Auntie Meg just said, because I'm the best."

"Quit corrupting the baby, Christine!" Meg scowled. Christine pulled a face at her and then returned her attention to the baby. Erik watched her, feeling a little… odd. As if he shouldn't really be a part of this picture. He did not belong within the image of a family.

At least, until Christine looked up at him.

"Your turn."

"I don't think-"

"Hold the baby, Erik." Christine said firmly, passing him over. Erik held the child awkwardly and he clearly didn't know what he was supposed to do now that he had the baby. Christine watched him proudly as he stared down at Tristan, who was now wide awake and staring at the strange people who were passing him back and forth like a ball. Erik lifted a hand and touched one of his red cheeks with the tip of one finger. This strange little being was _alive_. He was warm and soft and fragile. He was a human being, made of humans and embodied everything that Erik had ever wanted. Pure, simple, happy existence, filled with warmth and love and acceptance.

A hand touched Erik's arm and he looked to see Christine resting her cheek against his shoulder and smiling at the baby. And it was suddenly clear to Erik – he already _had_ what he had ever wanted.

"Aw, look at you guys. Like a proper little family." Meg sighed. Christine smiled and took the baby, passing him back to Sorelli, who held him so naturally she might have known him all her life. Nadir put an arm around her and held Tristan's miniscule hand between his thumb and index finger.

"My son." He said proudly, kissing Sorelli's forehead. "My son."

* * *

Christine watched the sun go down that evening, leaning against the railing of Erik's balcony. The days were finally getting cooler now but it was warm enough to stand in just her jeans and t-shirt. Cat strolled along the railing, tail swaying in balance. He reached the end and leapt down, twining around her legs and purring.

A hand touched the small of her back and she straightened to lean back into Erik. He slid his arms about her middle and rested his chin atop her head as they watched the warm glow of the golden sun as it slid slowly out of sight. Erik knew that Christine wanted to say something and he waited patiently for her to speak.

"Erik?" She said eventually, her voice tentative but firm.

"Yes, Christine?"

"I won't marry you."

"I know." Erik said softly. "You don't need to."

She turned and looked up at him, imitating his action and putting her arms around him. Her earnest face was upturned to his.

"Are you sure?" She asked anxiously. "You're not upset?"

"No. We have everything that we'll ever need. Why do we need to prove it to others?" Erik said quietly. She smiled and put her head against his chest. Erik stroked her hair and then said,

"It's the same as _Don Juan Triumphant_."

"What is?"

"I've finally finished what I've spent so many years working at. I don't need to see it performed; I don't want other people to judge and decide what they think. Because I know that it's perfect." He said quietly. Christine looked up at him again and then lifted herself on tiptoe to kiss him.

"I love you so much, it doesn't seem possible." She said softly, peeling his mask from his face to kiss the devastated skin beneath.

"I would try to come up with something equally passionate but I don't think that there are enough words." Erik replied quietly.

The final glow of sunlight slipped away beneath the horizon, leaving the pair to hold each other in the comforting darkness.

**A/N: Hey people. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I thought it was pretty interesting how everyone assumed that Christine and Erik _would_ get married eventually. But this is a modern day story – in 1890, yes, they would have gotten married. But let's face it, not all couples get married these days and I didn't feel that they needed to get married. Oh, also please bear in mind that I have never had babies and got most of my information from pregnancy websites!  
**

**Cough cough Sympathy please. I've been stuck at home for the past three days with tonsillitis. So that's a throat that thinks it's fun to tighten up and not let oxygen through, a sandpapered throat and a cough that's trying to help a lung escape on every bout of coughing. Not to mention the sneezing, nosebleeds, temperatures and headaches that feel like an elephants wearing steel-heeled stilettos is doing a merry jig inside my skull to a marching band. Now there's an image for ya. **

**Anyway, please feed a sick Official Review Whore's Addiction. And don't worry – I can quit anytime I want! shakes and twitches uncontrollably Heh… that's just the tonsillitis, I swear!**

**One chapter left. I think my heart may just break. I mean, I'm always sad to end a story but this has just been so incredible for me. I really feel like I've progressed as a writer in this story. Thank you all for your support!**

**Love and appreciation (and complimentary tonsillitis germs!)**

**Katie**


	40. An Eternity Of This

**The Girl Next Door**

Christine sat on Erik's sofa, pouring over the newspaper with a frown on her face. She circled a picture and turned the page. And then she jumped as Cat leapt into the newspaper, clearing miffed at her neglecting him.

"Cat! C'mon, move…" She shifted him onto the arm of the sofa, where he lay glaring until she stroked him into submission and warm purrs issued forth from him. Christine smiled at him and then looked up as a light kiss touched her forehead.

"Found anything?" Erik asked, moving around the sofa to sit beside her, one arm around her shoulders. Christine showed him the houses that she had marked out.

"These ones are in our price-range and what we're looking for in size and location. I think we'll have to go and see them before we decide." She said, shuffling over into his embrace. Erik examined the ones that she had chosen and turned the page, continuing to peruse the possibilities.

Much had changed in the last year and yet so much seemed the same. Erik's fame seemed to have tripled in the short amount of time it had taken him to write and produce a new opera, as well as begin directing a classical one, _Cose Fan Tutte_. Regular articles were starting to appear with information about him. He had even appeared on national news, giving a characteristically brief interview and getting a lot of publicity for the Hawthorn Theatre.

Christine, in the meantime, had not been idle either. Whilst the Hawthorn productions still took up the majority of her time, more and more requests were flooding in from authors, bands and even the occasional film studio for her assistance with promotions and advertising. As well as that, Firmin had further promoted her to assistant manager of Populaire Advertising, so whilst she was still directly involved with the graphics department (where Jammes was flourishing daily, having taken over the Piangi and Lefevre projects) Christine found herself holding a lot of influence over most of the other departments as well. Needless to say that her workload was considerably heavier but Christine couldn't say that she wasn't happier than she had ever been.

And now Erik and Christine had reached the unanimous decision to leave Gaston Place. The time had come, they had decided, to find a house instead of living in separate apartments, for their own comfort and for further reasons. So Christine had taken on the task of finding their new lodgings.

"We want somewhere quite large. Most of these are four bedrooms." She said, signalling to the ones she had marked out. Erik nodded and tapped another one.

"This looks hopeful. We'll need at least one large room to store the instruments."

"I wonder if we really need three pianos." Christine said thoughtfully.

"The designs are very different on all of them. It wouldn't hurt to have three, for referencing in my work." Erik said, turning the page again. Christine smiled, knowing in truth that he was refusing to part company with any of his instruments. His hand slid to grasp hers as he spoke again. "And we need the bedrooms for the child."

"That's if the agency ever get back to us." Christine said quietly.

"Once we've got a proper house and we've settled in, they will get back to us." Erik said, stroking her hair back from her forehead. "I know that our jobs are hard but I can work from home if needs be."

"I hope so." Christine murmured, marking out another house.

Adoption had, once again, been a mutual agreement. Erik's feelings were abundantly clear when it came to the subject of reproduction – he would, under no circumstances, inflict his face onto another being. His own experiences had been more than enough to prove just how cruel humanity could be. But he knew that Christine wanted a child and after seeing how happy Nadir was, had also expressed the desire to be a father. It had been nearly four months since they'd contacted the adoption agency in search of a baby. After countless interviews, they had been put on the waiting list as long as they ensured that they provided an appropriate home in which to raise a child. A floor of an apartment building with one partner owning an apartment each apparently did not qualify as an appropriate home.

"Christine, why don't you go and have a shower and I'll start dinner? You're going out with Meg and Sorelli, aren't you?" Erik said as they marked out all the possible houses (so far numbering up to five altogether). Christine nodded and looked at her watch.

"No problem. I think Sorelli wants to relish her last full weekend as a free woman." She said, folding the newspaper. Erik smiled.

"I think that effectively went out of the window when young Tristan arrived." He commented. Sorelli had become the very image of the doting mother, taking great pride in her young son. Christine smiled and shrugged.

"I don't know. I do know that she's absolutely thrilled about the wedding."

"As are we all." He said dryly. "But if I have to hear Nadir talking about flower arrangements and catering once more, I may spontaneously combust."

"You poor suffering artist."

"Indeed. Steak and Kidney pie?"

"Sounds good."

* * *

"A toast to Mrs Sorelli Khan." Meg said, holding her glass up. Christine held hers up too and Sorelli beamed.

"Not until next Sunday, but hey. I deserve it. To me!" She clinked glasses with her friends and they all drank. Christine lowered her glass and said,

"Is everything sorted for the wedding now?"

"Just about. There's nothing more that I can actually do until the day." Sorelli said, chewing on a couple of peanuts. "Your dresses are ready, mine's arrived, the flowers are ready, the food and reception are organised… there's nothing left to do. Oh, but you should just see the adorable little suit that I got for Tristan!"

As Sorelli proceeded to relate exactly how adorable this suit was, Christine went to fetch them all more drinks. She stood at the bar, waiting to catch the attention of one of the bartenders. A young couple stood nearby, laughing. Christine watched them for a moment and smiled at their simplistic happiness.

"Are you going house-hunting this week?" Meg asked as Christine passed the drinks around. She nodded and replied,

"Yes, Erik and I were looking through the paper this afternoon. There are a few we've got our eye on, but we really need to go and see them before we make a decision."

"And then you go and get your baby!" Sorelli said, smiling happily. Christine returned the smile, but forced herself to keep it calm.

"That's if there is a baby. Some people have to wait years before they can get a baby through adoption. And I think Erik sometimes worries about his age. He's going to be forty next year, he's worrying that by the time we get a baby and it's grown up he's going to be in his sixties."

"Big deal." Meg shrugged. "It wasn't a problem for Catherine Zeta Jones and Michael Douglas, was it? Now there's an age difference for you."

"I think and hope that'll be the first and last time that Erik and I are ever compared to them." Christine said thoughtfully. Sorelli snorted with laughter and, after calming herself, said,

"I just want to thank you two. You've really been great friends; ever since I first found out I was pregnant you looked after me. You've been there for me and you've been generally amazing. I'm so glad you're going to be there on Sunday."

"How sentimental. God, look at us. We're like a group of old women." Meg moaned. "We're not even _thirty_ yet."

"Last time I say thanks." Sorelli muttered, reaching for her drink.

The conversation turned to Meg and Matt's planned trip to Hawaii.

"It's the first step towards moving in together. We've talked about it but we're going to see how the holiday goes first." Meg said.

"That's a great idea." Sorelli said admiringly. Meg beamed and then nudged Christine.

"I wish you and Erik were tying the knot. I always had it planned that I'd be your maid of honour! Haven't you ever dreamed of that fairytale wedding?" She said, trying to tempt her friend. Christine, however, refused to be tempted.

"I don't want a fairytale. I did the whole big white dress thing with Raoul. I'm not looking for a knight in shining armour to come and sweep me off my feet."

"What about happily ever after?" Meg demanded. Christine smiled.

"That part I'll take. I don't need a handsome prince though. I'm happier than I've ever been with Erik and if he ever tries to sweep me off my feet, I'll let him know that it's a waste of time."

"You don't mean that." Sorelli said.

"Oh, I do. I've got everything I ever wanted. I don't need sweeping off my feet." Christine said simply. "More drinks?"

* * *

Christine was surprised, when she got home, to see Erik still sat at the piano, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. She hung her coat and caught up Cat, who was skirting around her ankles.

"You're working a bit late, aren't you?" She commented, kissing his temple lightly. He glanced up with a half-smile and said,

"I felt inspired. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I did." She grinned. "And I had a little more to drink than was _completely_ sensible. Therefore I'm in a rather fantastic mood and you should probably take advantage of me."

"Oh, really?"

"Mmm hmm." She put Cat down and pushed her face into Erik's hair from behind, closing her eyes and sighing. Erik smirked and turned to pull her around into his lap, crashing his lips down onto hers. When they separated she blinked at him in astonishment.

"_Erik_…"

"Yes?"

"I… wow."

"I thought you wanted me to take advantage of you."

"If you're going to be this enthusiastic, I _really_ do!" She grinned. His smirk intensified and he stood, Christine still in his arms. She laughed and held onto him tightly as he carried her to the bedroom.

He really could be quite motivated when the situation arose.

* * *

"Can I have a word, Christine?" Sophia said, standing in Christine's office doorway. Christine looked up from her keyboard and smiled.

"Sure. Come in." She shifted some papers off her desk. "Sorry about the mess, I've got that film commission due next week and it's all sort of fallen down around my ears."

"Will it be finished in time?"

"They always are, even if I have to work til three in the morning." She smiled as Sophia took a seat, her pregnant stomach protruding. Sophia rubbed her stomach as she handed Christine a piece of paper.

"This is the budget for the graphics department."

"I haven't overspent, have I? I was really careful." Christine said, a little panicky. Sophia smiled warmly.

"Christine, you've got another eight grand to spend in the next three months. You've been a little too careful. How's the house-hunt going?"

"I'm leaving a little early today so Erik and I can go and see a couple." Christine said. "How are you doing? Is Bianca excited about being a big sister?"

"Absolutely thrilled, of course. She's decided that it's going to be a boy and if you dare argue with her, may God be with you!" Sophia laughed, standing. "I'll see you later then."

It was the second house that they went to see that proved to be the jackpot. It was about twenty minutes drive from work for both Erik and Christine, skirting the edge of the town on a charming street. The estate agent led them from room to room and Erik felt Christine's hand squeezing his as the excitement built within her. He knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling.

"I'll let you have a wander around." The estate agent smiled. Once she was gone, Christine turned to Erik excitedly.

"Erik, it's _perfect_. Look…" She pulled him into one of the rooms. "This… this could be the music room. It's so light and we could soundproof the walls. And the room at the front of the house could be the sitting room. The kitchen and that room over there; that could go through into one big room! It's just… it's been waiting for us. And there are enough bedrooms as well; we could have my study upstairs and… Erik, this is our house."

She stood in the middle of what she imagined to be the music room. It was so easy to see it here. The piano could go over there, by the windows. They could paint the room a cheerful colour. Erik would stand over there with his violin, or sit at the piano. The cabinets with the instruments could line up along that wall. There could be a desk over in that corner for Erik to sit and write music. Christine stood still for a moment, imagining their life in this house. There they were, standing by the windows, Erik sat at the imaginary piano as she sang from imaginary paper. And a small, featureless being was running across the room, arms outstretched as his parents bent to catch him up in their arms…

Christine bit down on her lip. Erik put a hand on her shoulder, not knowing what she was seeing but able to make an educated guess. She smiled up at him.

"This could be our home, Erik. We could have a family here. We could live here happily. What was the name of the street?"

"Leroux Avenue. You would care to live on Leroux Avenue?" He murmured. She nodded.

"Yes."

"Then I suggest we inform the estate agent that we have made our decision."

* * *

Sorelli officially became Sorelli Khan that Sunday. Not being of any particular religion and Nadir being Muslim, the wedding had become a blend of both cultures. Whilst the ceremony itself consisted of the Islamic readings and vows from the Qur'an, Sorelli had insisted on having the white-dress wedding that she had dreamed of, something that Nadir had willingly agreed to. It was a small price to pay for him to be joined to this woman that he adored so much.

Meg and Christine, of course, were bridesmaids. Clad in pale pink satin with bouquets of pink roses, they beamed as Nadir and Sorelli kissed. Tristan was stood with his two godmothers and, whilst he didn't exactly understand what was going on, certainly seemed happy enough. Nadir knelt and held out a hand for him and he left Meg and Christine to run to his parents. He didn't really know what had just happened. As far as _he_ was concerned, Nadir was his daddy and that was that. Erik was Nadir's best man and stood beside his friend, thoroughly unruffled and paying serious attention to all of the goings-on. Christine watched him as the ceremony ended. She was a little concerned. Was this still what he wanted? They had assured each other many times that marriage was not what they needed. Why go through so much effort and hardship to be together, only to have some more traditional people demand that they sign a piece of paper? Their relationship, Erik had said firmly, was their own. It was private and he did not intend to display it for the world to gawk at as they pleased.

The reception was being held at _The Pinewood Hotel_, the same elaborate building in which Carlotta's birthday had been situated. After posing for what seemed like a thousand photographs, Christine went to find her estranged partner, who had disappeared as soon his picture had been unwillingly taken. She found Erik standing by the long table where they would be sitting with the others. He smiled and stood to kiss her.

"Do you know how charming you look?" He asked. Christine smiled sweetly.

"Only as much as you do. You look incredible in a tuxedo." She said, reaching up to kiss him again. A familiar voice broke them apart.

"Put her down, Erik, you don't know where she's been." Meg said cheerfully. "Chris, Sorelli's throwing the bouquet!"

She dragged Christine away. Christine threw Erik an exasperated look, but he merely seemed amused. They joined the group of other young women. Sorelli beamed at them all and then turned, throwing the flowers over her shoulder. For a moment it hung above them all before falling into the merciless crowd. Christine watched as they scrabbled over the flowers until, hair rather mussed, Meg jumped to her feet, triumphantly clasping the flora in her hand. She skipped over to Matt and kissed him.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"It means I need to get you very drunk until you forget all about this." He said, pulling her to the bar. Christine grinned and went back to Erik, who was talking with Nadir, Tristan riding piggy-back on his father's back. Christine kissed Nadir's cheek.

"Congratulations, Nadir!"

"Thanks Christine." He swung Tristan around and held him happily. He was fortunate in that he took after his mother in looks, with her strawberry blonde hair and huge blue eyes. He was an energetic and friendly boy and, to Nadir's utter delight, fascinated by the theatre in which his father worked. Christine smiled at the child.

"Are you having fun, Tristan?"

"Fun party." Tristan agreed solemnly. Sorelli scurried over to hug her son.

"Here are my boys!"

"There's my wife." Nadir said, pulling her to him. Sorelli giggled sweetly and Christine smiled at them both.

The speeches were kept, thankfully, short and sweet. No expenses had been spared on this occasion and the guests were provided with delicious food and lavish music. After a good four hours, the celebrations showed no sign of ceasing. Christine put her hand on Erik's.

"Want to dance?" She asked. He looked down at her.

"If you wish." He replied, getting elegantly to his feet and guiding her to the other dancers. Meg had snatched Nadir for a dance and Sorelli was holding Tristan, his small arms wrapped around her neck as they swayed to the music.

Erik held Christine in his arms and they began to dance slowly. Neither of them spoke, there was no need to. Christine was filled with thoughts of their new home, which they would be occupying in a fortnight. Erik was preoccupied with his new opera.

This particular opera was one that he had been thinking about for some time. It had the perfect plot of love and loss and promise. He had begun composing some time previously, several songs were already completed. It was not quite as extreme as _Hannibal_ or _Il Muto_. But _The Angel_ would still stun his audiences, as his music always did. He had never written an opera based on a poem before but with a muse as lovely as Christine, it could do nothing but flourish beneath his fingers. He would even fulfil Christine's wishes that the poem had not managed and would grant the Maiden Queen and her Angel an ending of love.

* * *

Sorelli and Nadir were taking their honeymoon in New Zealand for two glorious weeks. Tristan was obviously going with them and the family departed for their long journey the next day. Christine and Meg commiserated each other on the fact that whilst Sorelli was enjoying luscious sunshine and it was pouring rain outside Populaire Advertising, soon Meg and Matt were taking a holiday to Hawaii and it was only two weeks until Christine and Erik moved into 27 Leroux Avenue.

So, the following week, Christine turned her attention to packing. Their things were scattered between apartments 5a and 5b so she combined the boxes and over the following days, packed everything that was not immediately required. They were also forced to go shopping for furniture, since their apartments had been ready-furnished with much of the kitchenware. They had revisited the house several times to decide where to put everything. It was eventually decided that Christine's chairs and sofa would go in her study and Erik's would go in the sitting room, which would be decorated accordingly. Christine's table and chairs would go in the dining room/kitchen as Erik hadn't had those. This table would be going in the music room, that cabinet would go in the sitting room… Erik was incredibly grateful to Christine for taking charge of the situation and providing him with the free time in which to compose. As she had rightly said, "My work can be done anytime. You have to compose when you're inspired".

On their final day in Gaston Place, Christine left work a little early to make them a nice dinner. Part of her was filled with sadness to be leaving the place where she had met Erik and had established herself as a person in her own right. Within these walls she had changed from the ex-wife of Raoul de Chagny, the orphan of a suicide to Christine Daae, employee of Populaire Advertising and proud woman of the world. In this place she had laughed and cried, loved and lost, been heartbroken and been so happy that the world could have ended and she would have smiled still.

Cat was notably unimpressed at the large number of boxes that had appeared. After inspecting each one thoroughly, he had come to the conclusion that this was some peculiar game and had taken to hiding in various boxes. He emerged from the box labelled **CD's and DVD's** as Christine arrived home, carrying a bag of ingredients. She smiled and put the bag down to hug him as she pressed the play button on the answer machine, taking off her coat and shoes.

And then she froze as the information on the machine began to make sense in her head. Long after the beep had ended the message, she continued to stare at the small, grey machine that had just proclaimed her to be a mother.

Erik arrived an hour later to the smell of delicious food. A glass of one of his particularly favourite wines was awaiting him. Christine came out of the kitchen, flushed with the heat of cooking and looking incredibly thrilled. He smiled at her.

"Did you have a good day?"

"It got much better when I came home." She said, clearly wanting to make him work for the information. But she simply couldn't wait to tell him. She reached over and pressed the play button again and he paused to listen, his wineglass halfway to his lips.

_Hello, this is a message for Mr Destler and Miss Daae from Naomi Peters at the adoption agency. I thought you might like to know that a child has been found for you. A little girl, three weeks old and very healthy. You've got my number so if you want to call me before six, we can organise a meeting. Thanks._

Erik stared from the machine to Christine, who was watching with bated breath. And then he put down his glass and pulled her into his arms, not kissing her but holding her so tightly that it almost hurt. Christine held onto Erik as well and didn't say a word. For an eternity they stood, holding each other and loving each more than one would have thought it were humanly possible to do so before they separated, kissed and went to plan their next step towards their life together, phone in one hand, number in the other, Cat prowling around their feet and an array of possibilities as to what could come next to give them what they both desired. It was such a small thing to want, after all that they had experienced. An eternity in which to be with one another was not a huge demand from God. The rest of their lives in which to love each other was hardly a taxing request. That was all they wanted.

And that was what they would have.

**Love seeketh not itself to please,**

**Nor for itself hath any care,**

**But for another gives its ease,**

**And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair**.

* * *

**A/N: Excuse me a moment – (wails hysterically). Ahem. OK, well, that's it. It's over. Oh, and before I get any further let me establish one thing!**

**The beginning of Chapter One has Erik with a women and she agrees to marry him. That woman is NOT Christine. It is ANNA. I've been getting a lot of abuse over that one! I thought people would figure it out, but apparently not. Anyway, yeah, Anna. Not Christine. Anna.**

**And here come the thank you's. First of all I want to dedicated this chapter to the following people: TheAngelCried, Killer Veggies, Nabira, Greenified, Twilight28, TheElfLives, EireMeg, Tigerlily, Hikari-no-tsubasa, Cricket Spinner, unviedamour, Kainaku Hotaru, Sporkish Fiend, Gondolier, Monj and SadisticSidhe. They are my POL buddies and have squeed again and again for this story. My undying luff to them all!**

**Of course, an enormous thank you to everyone who has reviewed, praised, critiqued and generally helped with this story. You are all simply wonderful people to have taken the time to read this story and I don't think it could have turned as well as it did without your constant support. A big thank you to IheartPOTO for her constant stream of phanart, as well as to everyone else who has given me art. And here, for your pleasure, is another couple of pieces that arrived:**

**http/ i42. photobucket. com / albums / e317 / IHeartPOTO / Christinecopy . jpg**

**http/ img.photobucket. com / albums /v159/ Squirrelie/Art /cat.jpg**

**And finally, I would like to Mr William Blake for writing 'The Angel'. He truly is a genius.**

**Love, hugs, appreciation and phantom-shaped cookies. You were all wonderful people.**

**Katie**


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